


Love Thy Enemy

by ShadowsByDay



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst With A Happy End, Canon until "Partners", Canon-Typical Violence, I can't write those, I skip over the rape scenes btw, M/M, More tags to be added, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slow Burn, abused starscream, consent is my kink, i am in rarepair hell, megatron is a sadist, mentions of past rape, past megatron/starscream - Freeform, self-depreciation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2018-09-24 04:37:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 19
Words: 44,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9702290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowsByDay/pseuds/ShadowsByDay
Summary: After enduring vorns of abuse by Megatron's servo, Starscream begins to question staying under the sadistic warlord's command. An energon mine cave-in provides him with the perfect opportunity to escape, but after being captured by the autobots, the seeker begins to wonder if his life is even worth living anymore...*Rating has gone up for chapter 19.*





	1. Prologue

“You disappoint me yet again, Starscream.”

The menacing words were spoken with a dark leer, and a heavy servo on the seeker's shoulder plating had the mech freezing up in a blind panic, plates clamping down around his frame. He fought to keep the terror and apprehension off of his faceplates and clear from his EM field and managed a tentative, “Y-yes, master?”

The clawed digits of the warlord left a deep scratch in the fresh paint that Knockout had so painstakingly touched up only groons before, attaching a new arm with only a few mumbled curses. Starscream's optics widened as Megatron leaned in, brow furrowed and a mad gleam in his optic.

“You think you would hide your actions from me? Raising your own undead warrior? Did you really think it would escape my notice?”

The claws trailed lower, scraping over sensitive plating and pausing here and there to tug at an exposed wire. The seeker's spark clenched.

“I... I do not know-”

The soft touches became painfully rough, anger filling his field and smothering Starscream as he grabbed the slim frame and threw him against the opposite wall before pining him there. “DO NOT LIE TO ME!”

A squeak escaped from his vocalizer.

“The blood of Unicron may no longer run through my lines, but I remember its feel! I know its effects! And I felt it the moment you pulled Skyquake back from the Well of Allsparks!”

Starscream's glossa laid heavy in his mouth, and any excuse he might have been able to give fled him. Megatron took his silence to be an acknowledgment of his guilt, and returned his attentions to the sleek hints of protoform beneath the silver armor. One servo pinned both of the seeker's above his head, the grip stronger than was strictly necessary, cutting through the sensitive wires and denting the thinner plates.

“It seems I need to punish you once again, you ungrateful wretch...”

Panic overrode any semblance of control, and his control over his field slipped as self-preservation instincts kept him rooted to the spot. Vorns of forced exposure to Megatron's ever-increasing wrath screamed at him was the way to escape with the least injury was to simply bear what was to come next...

* * *

* * *

A groon later, when the star that the earthen planet was tied to gravitate around had disappeared beyond the horizon, Starscream barely stirred when Soundwave lifted his limp frame from the cold metal floor. The silent mech paid no mind to the slick energon that slowly stained his dark paint, emanating from the lines that Megatron had pulled on too roughly.

He quickly transported the barely-functioning first lieutenant to a secluded corner of the abandoned medical bay, Knockout having obviously departed for another one of those human automobile races. Soundwave was no stranger to the simpler workings involved in basic patch jobs, though, and made short work on clamping the lines and soldering them back together. The excess energon was wiped from the seeker's frame, and the smaller dents were pounded out. The damage to the delicate wrists was more extensive than he could properly work with, but he did what he could.

Soundwave worked in complete silence, cataloging the damages Megatron had left in his latest punishment to cross reference with past occurrences. A hint of disgust tainted the edges of his field. Such incidents were not uncommon among the ranks of the decepticon army, though Starscream seemed to be the warlord's favorite... _toy._

His task done, the spy took a step back, leaving the more obvious dents and paint transfers along Starscream's chassis for the seeker to deal with when he awoke. Such repairs dealt with intimate areas that were usually best left to one's own devices.

The faceless mech retreated back to work station, wordlessly sending a message to Megatron's communications link that his lieutenant would be out of commission for the next orn at the very least, a missive that was promptly swept aside.

His self-assigned task complete, he returned his attention to the holographic monitors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't guarantee scheduling for updates, but I intend to see this piece through!


	2. Freedom at What Price?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a few hours to myself, so this was the result! Enjoy.  
> Warnings: Abuse, mentions of rape.

His chestplates ached, and his spark more so.

Though that was nothing unusual, and Starscream had grown used to it. His outing to retrieve Breakdown from the humans might not have been his best idea- he was still weak as it was- but how was he to know that those accursed autobots were going to rescue one of their enemies, rendering his whole mission useless?!

He grit his denta at the thought, EM field fluctuating before he brought it back under control. Hindsight was a fickle thing, and now he wished he'd have remained on the Nemesis to regain more of his strength. He was undoubtedly going to need it for whatever Megatron had in store for this... _mission._

The warlord transformed, landing gracefully on the ground. The seeker less so, his spark throbbing painfully as his plates slid apart and rearranged to form his bipedal mode.

“Uh, Lord Megatron?” Starscream asked timidly, glancing around. “Far be it from me to question your intentions, but... I do not understand why we've returned here after all this time. Alone.” The last word was almost an afterthought, and the moment it left his lipplates, he regretted saying it.

Thankfully, Megatron rolled his optics and started towards the mine.

“Every last trace of energon was extracted from this mine!” the seeker said quickly, trying to cover his slip-up. He chased after the warlord, stopping just inside the mouth of the tunnel. “There's nothing left!”

That got Megatron to pause, turning back with a raised optic ridge as annoyance trickled into his field strongly enough that Starscream could feel it. “Indulge me, Starscream, won't you?”

Then he was moving again, leaving the seeker to send one last hesitant, wishful glance to the sunny, outside world.

They walked on for a short ways, Megatron leading Starscream deeper into the confines of the rocky earth. When the two rounded one of the numerous corners, their optics landed on several drills that had been left behind when the mine had supposedly been depleted. The seeker had been saving them in the case of... unforeseen emergencies, and they had thankfully been forgotten.

Until now, it seemed.

He sucked in a decent amount of air, cooling fans kicking in to fight the panic that warmed his frame and slipped into his field. Stepping forward, he pointed at them and yelled, “Incompetent fools! This mining equipment should have been relocated! Why is it still here?!”

“A most valid question,” Megatron replied, and the seeker could feel those piercing red optics boring through his back plating. He flinched, drawing his plates in and turning around.

“My apologies, Master. I believe Soundwave was in charge of coordinating transport,” Starscream supplied hurriedly. Megatron growled, optics narrowing, so Starscream pressed on. “But, in fairness, during your interstellar travels, we all had to assume additional responsibilities, so clearly mistakes were made!” He took a step back as he reached the end of his excuses, Megatron's leering glare never wavering.

“Yes, clearly,” he repeated slowly, raising one arm and baling the servo into a fist.

Starscream winced, but he hit he was expecting never landed. Echoes of metal on stone resounded through the cramped tunnels as Megatron struck the wall, pulling his servo back out after a moment, a medium-sized cluster of energon crystals clenched in his grasp.

“Every last trace of energon extracted?” he asked, optics blazing.

“L-lord Megatron! I can explain,” Starscream said.

“Explain what?” he nearly roared, flaring his plates. “That you've been hoarding a supply of energon for your personal use?” He dropped the crystal, and it clinked as it came into contact with the stone floor.

“No!” Starscream protested. “Not exactly. You see, I-”

He broke off when Megatron crushed the crystals under his pede. “Do not take me for a fool, Starscream! I have been wise to your transgressions from the beginning! First you pluck the shard of dark energon from my spark in a failed attempt to offline me, and then you use it to raise your own undead warrior. I would have thought my punishments would get through to you, but keeping your own energon stashes? It appears I need to be more... _thorough._ ”

“No! No, Master, please! I promise-”

“Your word means nothing to me, you piece of slag!” Megatron interrupted, shoving the seeker harshly against the wall.

Starscream had to swallow a groan, the motion igniting his already-sore pain receptors. One of Megatron's pedes slammed into Starscream's lower left leg, denting the thin layers of plating until they were scraping uncomfortably against the wires and protoform beneath. This did draw a shriek out of Starscream, one that the warlord accepted gleefully.

The pain drove the seeker to attempt to flee, crawling across the ground to keep the weight off of his left leg. Megatron growled at that, lifting Starscream up by his scruff bar and slamming him back towards the ground, hard enough that something in the seeker's helm rattled and the visual feed from his right optic became fuzzy.

Presumably, Megatron's digits began to roughly trace the edges of the seeker's chestplates, pausing at the hinges. It didn't take long for him to work both the outer and inner plates open, despite every sensor and processor screaming at Starscream to resist.

Then Megatron leaned in with a quiet, rough, _“Mine,”_ and Starscream shuttered his optics.

* * *

* * *

It took several, long moments for Starscream to realize that there wasn't another heavy frame holding him down any longer. His HUD pinged, asking to shut down his pain receptors. He hesitated for a moment before deciding to indulge himself, though shutting them down didn't snuff out all of his agony.

Carefully, he onlined his good optic, trying to get his bearing. The sight that greeted him, though, had him onlining his other optic (not that it helped his visual field any) and widening both.

Megatron was still standing over him, which was surprising enough, but combined with the fact that his ion cannon was primed and aimed straight for the seeker's helm had his spark racing, despite the pain that the motion caused.

A sneer lifted one corner of the warlord's mouth, his field radiating twisted delight, and then he spoke. “Despite your treachery, I allowed you to continue along because I took a certain delight in your string of failures. But you've finally become tiresome. Predictable! You've hit _rock bottom._ ”

Starscream's vents hitched, and he tried to push himself backwards. Unfortunately, his back struts were already pressed against the rocky wall, leaving him with nowhere to go.

“Please...” he managed to say, voice cracking. “I beg of you!”

“You have ceased to be of use to me, Starscream,” Megatron sneered. “So you will simply cease to be!”

The ion cannon glowed brighter in preparation to fire, and Starscream blinked once, optics fixated on the weapon that he'd feared for the better part of his life.

Movement out of the corner of his good optic gained his attention, and he couldn't help but turn and wonder who had wandered into the old mine in time to witness his termination.

The surprised face of Arcee's human pet stared back at him, followed closely by the autobot femme herself. Megatron followed his gaze, growling when he caught sight of the two newcomers.

He quickly switched his aim for the autobot and her pet, leaving Starscream lying in the dust behind him. The femme dodged the blasts and ran for cover, carrying the human and claiming all of the warlord's attention. While he was distracted, Starscream carefully picked himself up off of the ground and used the autobot's sudden arrival to his advantage. His transformation back into the jet form was awkward and painful, but he somehow managed and immediately blasted out of there, followed by an enraged scream from Megatron.

The reduced depth perception due to a damaged optic made his flight jerky, and the tips of his wings scraped against the rocky walls. The ceiling began to collapse as he raced back through the tunnels, retracing their earlier steps. Bits of rock landed on the top of his vehicle form, threatening to crash him. By sheer desperation, the seeker was able to outrun the cave-in, bursting back out into the daylight just as the tunnel collapsed behind him.

He spun, his flight going beyond his control. Transforming again, he landed hard, unable to stop from crying out at the misery as his pain receptors came back online of their own accord. He pushed himself onto his knees to relieve the pressure on his chestplates, a servo immediately going to the seam and coming away stained with energon.

Starscream grit his denta, forcing himself to his stabilizing servos, most of his weight going on his right leg. One glance at where the entrance of the mine used to be proved that there was no way out of there. Not anymore, at least.

“Rust in peace, Megatron,” he muttered, a hint of sarcasm lacing his tone. He turned on one heel strut, a servo returning to his chestplates.

Taking a few limping steps forward, his processor raced as he determined a safe location to go to. Megatron had survived far worse, and there was little doubt he'd pull himself out of the collapsed mine with little trouble, but there was no way Starscream would return to the Nemesis again. Not if Megatron had decided the seeker no longer served a purpose. Surviving on his own would be hard, but it would be better than returning to the decepticons.

He could hardly bring himself to transform again, but he attained flight once more after each plate and wire had shrieked loudly at him. The promise of protection in the long-forgotten Harbinger was all that kept him going.


	3. The Solitude Never Lasts Long

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during "Partners" with a few changes, and a debut from (most) the autobots!

What remained of the Harbinger wasn't much, but its intact walls and heavy ceiling at least provided some form of protection from the dirt planet's ever-changing weather. The relatively-well stocked medical bay had been a surprise, but the slightly-outdated tools provided Starscream with the means to repair what he could of himself.

The damage to his optic he couldn't quite reach, but he'd pounded out most of the dents causing his limp and sealed the broken lines inside his chestplates. It did little to ease his constant pains, but at least he wasn't leaking energon any longer. And his balance had mostly returned after his optic had recalibrated for use without its partner.

The few days since his defection had been spent mostly in recharge, and the silence was beginning to grate on his wiring- something he hadn't been entirely expecting.

As the thought crossed his processors, a grating noise reached his audios, and the framing of the ship began to vibrate slightly. He tensed, glancing up at the ceiling as it's lights- which thankfully still functioned- flickered.

With a whining growl, a figure cut through the ceiling and dropped gracefully to the floor. A strangled gasp left Starscream as he recognized the lanky form of Arachnid, spider-like legs and all. Before he had much time to react, she spun towards him and easily laced him up in her sticky webbing.

Starscream fell to the floor with a thud, unable to fight the planet's light gravity.

“Well well well. Let's see what the spider has caught in her web, shall we?” The feminine voice was sickeningly sweet. Her field rubbed against his in the strange way that it always did, which was one of her strange ways to gain leverage over others. He pulled his in in return.

“Arachnid?” Starscream asked, optics wide. “What- what are you doing here?”

“I'm afraid that information is need to know. To put it simply, Megatron has tasked me with finding something,” she preened, looking proud of herself. “Something that he obviously never found you worthy of.”

Starscream scoffed, rolling his good optic. “You went crawling back to _him?_ ” He laughed, but it quickly turned into a staticky cough.

Arachnid's proud smile morphed into clenched denta, irritation seeping into her field (though she still didn't draw it away) and she growled, “Oh, believe me, if I'd had a choice...” She left her sentence unfinished, stepping over the bound seeker and pressing some buttons at the nearby holomonitor.

“What are you doing?” Starscream snapped, spark clenching.

“Accessing the cargo manifest,” she replied flatly. “Or didn't you ever think to do that?”

“Your processors must be firing at half power! The ship's systems haven't been activated for eons. The autobots could detect its energy signature,” the seeker pointed out, wriggling slightly in a vain attempt to escape his bonds.

“Ah, here it is,” she said, blatantly ignoring his words. “Section twenty-three.” The spider-bot returned to his side and pushed him back to his pedes, putting a blaster to his back and simply saying, “Walk.”

“Why should I?” he grumbled, craning his neck to make optic-contact.

“To save your own spark. Now move!”

With a groan, the seeker complied, limping forward slowly.

Rounding a few corners, it didn't take more than a couple of breems for the duo came upon a stone wall where the rest of the ship used to be. Starscream came to a stop, and he could predict Arachnid's growl before he heard it. “Section twenty-three should be right here. The ship just ends.” After a slight pause, she concluded aloud, “It must have broken in half during the crash.”

“Or in the _air_ ,” Starscream said with a half-sneer. “If you would have done you research, you would have learned that an autobot battalion shot the Harbinger out of the sky.”

With a hiss, Arachnid's spun him around to face her, the motion upsetting his balance terribly and almost causing him to fall once more. She grabbed him by the front of his armor and pulled him down so that he was at optic-level. “Where is the other half?!”

“I'm afraid that information is... need to know,” he replied, a hint of a smirk appearing on his lipplating.

The femme shoved him harshly to the ground once more. “You're trying to make me look like a fool in front of Megatron! Have me return empty-servo while you locate that weapon yourself!”

“How dare you accuse me! I no longer serve that half-bit glitch,” Starscream retorted.

“All the more reason for you find it first, _scavenger_ ,” she almost purred, throwing the insult she'd had aimed at her many times back at him. “Need I remind you there is nobot standing in the way of me terminating you?”

The seeker huffed, wanting to resist. But he could see the murder in her optics, the way she was itching for a fight to relieve some of her pent-up tension. “Hmph. It's a few kliks north of here, beyond a stone arch. Now release me!”

The spider-bot smiled evilly and stepped over him, walking away with deft clicks as her eight legs tapped the ground lightly. “When I have the weapon in servo. That is, if I can find my way back with no guide.” The smirk was evident in her voice.

“Arachnid!” Starscream yelled, thrashing around wildly as she got further away. “This is not funny! Release me! Arachnid!”

A faint chuckle was his only response, and for the span of a few sparkbeats, he suddenly feared he was alone in the abandoned ship. Then Arachnid reappeared, her optics widened slightly and plates tightened, and her pace much faster.

Before Starscream could shout her designation again, demanding answers, she was past him and blaster fire was passing overhead in an attempt to shoot down the rouge femme. Four autobots turned out to be the source of the fire, quickly converging on Starscream and the one they called Arcee following Arachnid up the tunnel she'd carved into the stone wall.

When it became evident that the navy femme wasn't going to return, Optimus Prime shortly ordered, “Bring Starscream.” Then he was gone, racing back towards the way they'd come in in an obvious attempt to reach the fight and give Arcee better odds.

The big green one, Bulkhead, pulled Starscream to his pedes, turning him roughly so that he was facing the exit. Bumblebee's servos transformed into his blasters, and he aimed them at the seeker, but neither said anything, keeping their own fields tethered down.

The daylight streaming down outside assaulted his optic, and it took him a moment to adjust the settings so that he wasn't blinded after spending nearly half an orn in the ship's dark halls. His captors weren't so forgiving, though, Bulkhead pushing him towards where the Prime stood roughly.

“Move it!” he called, voice an octave lower than it usually was.

The gesture sent Starscream to his knees again, a motion he was quickly becoming tired of. “No need to use force! I'll tell you anything you want to know,” he said, a hint of irritation riding his voice, but he fought to keep his optics wide and innocent.

“Is that right? And what do you want in return?” Bulkhead asked, sounding skeptical.

With his most persuasive voice and in a tone almost too innocent, he replied, “I want to be on your side.”


	4. Allies and Enemies

_Previously:_

_With his most persuasive voice and in a tone almost too innocent, he replied, “I want to be on your side.”_

\----

Silence reigned for a moment, as the autobots obviously tried to process his words, and then Bulkhead audibly scoffed. “Is that right? And I've been lobbing with The Fallen!”

“You wouldn't betray the decepticons,” Arcee added, crossing her arms over her chestplates and raising an optic ridge.

Starscream growled, the look in his optic darkening as the damaged one flickered.“Wouldn't I? I'll have you know I left their cause! What have they done for me lately? Ever!? Humiliate me? Spy on me? Demote me? Megatron tried to extinguish my spark in cold energon, and now he's all but replaced me with that traitorous wretch Arachnid, and she abandoned me! Left me for scrap! So _why not_ rat them out?”

Bulkhead and Arcee exchanged a look, and Bumblebee vented. Prime's optics narrowed slightly, a sight that Starscream found faintly amusing. He, Bulkhead, and Arcee wordlessly turned and walked a good distance away, and Starscream glanced at Bumblebee. The Urbana flared his plates briefly, keeping his blasters aimed at the ex-con. Starscream growled.

Apparently his so-called silver glossa wasn't as good as it used to be.

Ten earth minutes later found him stuffed unceremoniously in the back of Prime's trailer, though, freed of Arachnid's webs. His freedom hadn't lasted for long, much to his ire, quickly being replaced with stasis cuffs and a clamp to keep his wings awkwardly pinned together. _At least they didn't terminate me,_ a deeper part of his consciousness commented, one that he ignored.

The rumbling came to a stop as Prime slowed. Then came the sounds of his transformation, but the seeker's plating began to itch when he wasn't immediately released from his metal prison. Words were exchanged outside the trailer, ones that he could barely hear and didn't really care to. Then the trailer's doors were pulled open, letting the dusty sunlight illuminate his battered frame once more and revealing the faceplates of Bulkhead.

“Rise and shine, Screamy,” the wrecker said with entirely too much cheer, large servos closing around the seeker's lower legs and pulling him out.

A whine escaped his vocalizer as the dented plating was pressed further into the wiring and protoform of his left leg, but none of the autobots paid him any mind.

His back hit the rocky ground, forcing him into an awkward half-sitting motion to keep his weight off of his wings, which were unable to move in any direction. The short distance that Bulkhead drug him forced tiny rocks and bits of dirt underneath some of Starscream's smaller plates, which then proceeded to rub against his protoform as well.

Bulkhead let him go, and Arcee was immediately upon him, asking, “We're here. Where's the ship?”

He took a moment to glance around, orienting himself with the area and using his internal systems to pinpoint the planet's cardinal directions.

“It's through the arch, among the stones,” he answered, lifting both servos to point one of his claws in the direction he spoke of.

Prime gave a single nod. “Bulkhead, Bumblebee, you're with me. Arcee, remain with the prisoner.”

Starscream vented. Prime couldn't even refer to him by his designation? Arcee threw the seeker a glance and then headed for her leader.

“Optimus, _please._ ...For Tailgate.”

Prime raised an optic ridge at her, and then replied curtly. “Your desire to avenge Tailgate will only continue to cloud your judgment.” Then he turned and walked away, followed closely by the other two autobots. Arcee threw a look of pure loathing at Starscream.

“Ugh. Is the clamp really necessary? I promise not to fly away!” He struggled for a moment more, then said, “It's really giving me a _crick._ ”

“I can shove you back in the trailer,” the two-wheeler replied pointedly, putting a servo on her hip.

Starscream groaned.

A short time passed, filled with Arcee pacing with the occasional mutter under her venting, and Starscream fiddling with his cuffs. The hard ground beneath him was making his knees grow sore, and his attempts to keep the majority of his weight off of his left leg were growing harder with each passing breem.

“I'm not really so bad, you know,” he said, eying Arcee and attempting to make conversation. “Megatron, _he's_ the evil one.”

His words got Arcee to pause in her pacing, but she only threw him a sideways glance and a short, “Tell it to someone who cares.”

Starscream rolled his good optic. “Like whom? Arachnid? What I wouldn't do to get my servos around her wretched throat!”

The femme faced him fully, returning her servo to her hip. There was a hint of anger in her optics, but he could tell it wasn't aimed at him. “So we can agree on one thing.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” he growled, sitting up a little straighter and gaining a mad gleam to his optic. His HUD pinged at him that his energon levels were growing dangerously low, but he brushed them aside. “She shows up without warning and then acts like she runs the place! I thought putting up with her was bad on Cybertron, but she followed us to Earth, too? She whispers lies into Megatron's audios, maneuvers to rob everybot to climb the ranks!”

Arcee raised a brow ridge, looking vaguely impressed. Then it lowered as she looked away and said, “She terminated my partner.”

Anger rose in Starscream. “What?! She's taking credit for scrapping him now, too?! That was my doing!” It was only when the two-wheeler turned back to him, surprise in her optics, that he realized what he'd said. He offered a sheepish smile, drawing in his plates slightly in a surrendering motion.

“What? You weren't there.”

“Of course I wasn't!” he replied quickly, seizing on to the idea. “I don't know what I was thinking.”

“Who are you talking about?” Arcee asked, optics brightening as she took a step forward, pointing a digit at him threateningly.

“No one. Who are you talking about?” Starscream asked, tilting his helm.

“Tailgate.”

“Er, who's Tailgate?”

Understanding flitted across the femme's optics, and they narrowed to slits. “ _You_ were the one. _You extinguished Cliffjumper!_ ”

“Cliffjumper?!” Starscream cried. Arcee grit her denta and curled one servo into a fist, raising it above her helm. “No no no! You misunderstand.” A brief memory of Cliffjumper's pained face swam across Starscream's vision, and the memory of the feeling of his claws buried in the autobot's chestplates accompanied it. “It wasn't like you think! The troopers mortally wounded him! I was trying to help Cliffjumper. Put him out of his misery! He begged me to do it!” As he spoke, he grabbed onto her arm, pleading evident in his optic. Arcee's optics narrowed, and she kicked him back. He yelped. “Okay! It was a mistake! I've made many. But I've changed! I'm one of you now! You wouldn't terminate a defenseless prisoner, would you?”

His processors ran full-speed, trying to calculate a way out of his situation. Fighting was not an option, as he had to keep every drop of his meager energon supply inside his lines. His spark was already aching worse than usual due to the lack of energon. It was clear, though, that every word he spoke only served to make Arcee angrier. She took two steps back, glaring at him and dropping a small, glowing chip.

“What?” Starscream asked, glancing between it and her. “What's that for?”

“Cliff would have given you a fighting chance,” she said simply, voice dripping with venom. Then she transformed her servos into blasters and aimed them at him. “Take it!”

He gulped, gazing up at her. There was no room for arguing in her tone or her stance, and he clumsily picked it up. He made a small noise as it slipped from his claws, accidentally-on-purpose. Then he flinched and scooted back.

Arcee gave a disgusted noise, reverting one blaster and leaning down to pick it up. “You're pathetic.”

Starscream chuckled quietly, using the motion to his advantage and swiping his claws across her thinly-plated midsection. She gasped and stumbled, falling to the ground while Starscream rose, making quick work of his cuffs.

“I thought you wanted a fight?” he taunted, taking a step back.

It seemed that he gave her a moment too long to recuperate, though, and she was back on her pedes to charge at him. Normally, the seeker would pride himself on his speed and agility, even against a smaller opponent like Arcee. However, between his never-ending sparkache, the wounds he'd been unable to fix, and his low fuel, he was too slow to back away from the speedy femme's attacks.

She went straight for his dented leg, using his injuries to her advantage. Her sharp, thin pede connected with the dent, and something beneath the plating cracked. The seeker's shrill scream echoed around the area as he toppled over, multiple warnings popping up on his HUD as energon began to leak from a couple of different lines, splattering over the ground and glowing faintly. Arcee didn't let up, though, bringing her arm blades against every surface that she could.

“This. Is. For. Cliffjumper!” she cried, punctuating each word with a blow.

One by one, Starscream's internal systems began to fall offline as he lost the required energon, and the last to go was his good optic. As the darkness surrounded him, he caught sight of Arcee looming over him much like Megatron had in the energon mine, but unlike the warlord, she was hesitating in terminating him for a reason he couldn't see.

Then his frame went completely limp, and he knew no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand... we're done with following the episodes so closely! Next chapter Ratchet will (finally!) come in, and then we can start building up to the relationship!


	5. A Change of Scenery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've made some minor changes to all the previous chapters to include both EM Fields and minor plating movements for emotion tells,  
> stumbling across the ideas recently myself. Nothing major has changed if you don't want to go back and reread it, but I would recommend going back for that extra layer of depth.

“ _Ratchet! He's flatlining!_ ”

The orange and white medic turned slightly from where he was working on his Prime, scanning the large 'bot's systems for any possible after-effects of the Immobilizer's paralyzation effect. He sighed, his medic's coding pressing him to get to the con's side, but his personal coding weighing in with the fact that it was _Starscream,_ raising the question of why he should bother.

“Ratchet,” Optimus said softly, unspoken orders being conveyed through his cerulean optics.

The medic grumbled, but set down his external scanner and focused on the stasis-locked seeker. He relieved Bumblebee of his post, where the Urbana had been monitoring the screens that displayed the con's vital stats. The symbols that flickered and changed told Ratchet that the seeker's spark was barely functioning at this point, not having the proper energon input to keep him online. He was running on the last of his reserve tank's supply. Ratchet vented deeply.

“Bumblebee, fetch the IL energon feed,” he said, snapping into medic mode and grabbing the welder. He made quick work of the lines Arcee had punctured, making a mental note to pound out the dent enough that it wouldn't sever the line again once Starscream was functioning a little better.

Then he accepted the intra-linear from 'Bee and carefully pushed it into a main line, as near to the spark as he could get it without causing further damage. At his nod, 'Bee flicked the switch on the machine, and it whirred to life as it began to pump medical-grade into Starscream. Several tense nano-kilks passed, during which the spark monitor continued to rapidly chirp its unhappiness.

When Ratchet realized the window for the energon's successful integration was passing, he reached for an Electronic Pulse Generator and positioned it above the seeker's chestplate. The first pulse did nothing, and he gritted his denta as he powered it up a second time.

The electricity flowed over the thin frame, and the monitor quieted a bit as Starscream's spark began to function properly, albeit sluggishly. The sound made him cycle air again, unaware that he'd briefly stopped.

“Remind me again why we're saving him?” Arcee asked, fury evident in both her tone and field. “He's the fragger who terminated Cliffjumper!”

Ratchet turned to her with a hint of surprise, digits twitching. “What?”

“When did you learn of this?” Optimus asked, tone neutral, though Ratchet had known Optimus long enough to see the barely-contained flash of anger in his optics.

“He let it slip,” Arcee replied, her plates tightening in anger. “That's when we started fighting.”

Optimus took a moment to process the thought. “He will answer for that once he is functioning again. As it stands, he needs repairs. He is of no use to us half-offline. Ratchet?”

“Hep ep ep! I'm working on it,” Ratchet said, waving off Optimus' words as he set exchanged the generator for more delicate tools. “I will only repair what's strictly necessary, though. We need him online, not comfortable.”

His Prime had no answer for that, and the medic dismissed Bumblebee when the Urbana looked at him questioningly, doorwings twitching. Arcee grumbled and stalked off, and 'Bee started to follow her. Bulkhead set a servo on his shoulder-plating, saying something about letting her have time to cool off. Ratchet didn't catch all of it, tuning the others out as he turned his attention to his newest patient.

The work was simple enough. What Starscream really needed was the energon, so while the IL did its job, Ratchet occupied himself with the menial repairs. A dent pounded out here or there, an energon line repaired and reset, and multiple wires straightened out so movement wouldn't break them. When the medic preformed a deeper scan, it revealed the trauma to both the seeker's wrists and the shorted-out optic, though at the present, neither of those were life-threatening. What really caught the ambulance's attention was a strange reading from the jet's spark.

“Well that's odd,” he muttered, brow ridges drawing closer together as he scanned the jet again. The results were the same, and Ratchet turned his optics from the readout of the scanner to the closed chestplates of the motionless seeker.

The tips of his digits had barely traced over the warm metal when a shiver ran the length of Starscream's frame. The unforeseen motion had Ratchet pausing, pulling back his servo in trepidation. A quick glance back at the scan results had him making up his processor, and he set his digits against the clasps.

A violent shudder wracked Starscream's frame. In a split nano-klik, the seeker was sitting up, spinal struts ramrod straight and weapons systems hot, EM field reigned in so tightly that the ambulance could barely feel it. Ratchet jumped back, an undignified yelp escaping his vocalizer, followed by a clatter as he dropped the scanner.

There was a wild look in his good optic that made it startlingly obvious that he wasn't completely there. This was more of a last resort defense mechanism that had been hardwired into his processor, though the very-real threat of the missiles attached to his arms were more of a pressing worry to Ratchet than the specifics of why such a strange program existed.

His yelp attracted the attention of Optimus and Bulkhead, both of whom were immediately upon Starscream and pushing him back onto the medical berth.

Snapping himself into medic mode, Ratchet snatched a pair of magnetic, single-servo stasis cuffs from his workbench. He had to take an extra moment to dig for them, the items not being something he usually had need for. He turned back to see both Prime and Bulkhead struggling to subdue the wily seeker, the sheer determination that was behind his fight astounding enough to give the two heaviest-hitters of the team a run for their credits. If he'd had the time to look closer, the medic also might have noted the strong undertones of panic.

He slapped the cuffs on Starscream's wrists, the servomagnetic forces whirling to life and pinning Starscream to the berth. A similar set went around the seeker's ankles, and then Ratchet made quick work of the missiles on his arms, loosening a few screws and popping them off.

“Why not just sedate him?” Bulkhead asked, staring at the 'con that had gone motionless again. “Woulda been easier.”

“And it would have killed him,” Ratchet retorted, though there was less malice in his tone than there usually would have been. “His energon levels are so low he's practically been running on reserves. That is one pit of a program to be hosting, especially to override critical stasis subroutines. I wonder...”

“What brought that on?” Optimus asked, taking a slight step back to stabilize himself and catching Ratchet's optic.

“I went for his chestplates, and... Well, you saw what happened.” Ratchet paused, looking with a critical optic at the aforementioned plating. A tentative servo hovered over it again, barely making contact. When Starscream showed no sign of stirring, Ratchet quickly pried the plates open, snapping a manual override device onto a section of wiring that would cut off all access to the T-cog, for both weapons usage and vehicle transformation. “Hm. Must have worn himself out.”

A brief glance revealed nothing to be glaringly wrong, but Ratchet didn't want to risk tripping any other possible failsafes, so he closed the outer layer of chestplating with a dull click of finality.

“It may be best to move him to a cell when his energon transfusion is completed,” Optimus said softly, and Ratchet nodded absently. A few minor leaks from the scuffle caught his optic, and he sighed as he reached for the welder again.

Bulkhead departed with a brief word from Prime, heading to help Bumblebee prepare the cell, but Optimus remained. He didn't hover, which would have inevitably gotten him snapped at, but he stayed close enough by to be of immediate use if something else were to happen, a fact which Ratchet was grateful for.

* * *

* * *

Starscream's optic onlined slowly, giving him a blurry glimpse of his surroundings. His initial systems scan told him that his energon levels were at eighty four percent, though the fullness in his tanks were what really got the message across. That was much higher than any other point in his span of freedom, and he didn't recall the Harbinger's stocks being furnished...

Suddenly alarmed, he shot upright and glanced around. Immediately his frame ached, but a quick systems diagnostic alerted him to the fact that he had multiple new weld patches on his lines and most of the damage to his left leg had been fixed. Not all, but enough that his limp would be diminished to the point of being almost unnoticed until his self-repair systems would be able to fix the remaining damage. Now that he was running on more than fumes, that repair process would be that much faster.

His attention was drawn to the fact that his custom safety program had been activated, and he winced internally. From what he could tell, the inner chestplates protecting his spark had been left untouched, but it left him to wonder why the effort hadn't offlined him. He hadn't exactly had the energon to survive the program's effects in the first place...

Dismissing the notifications, Starscream focused on the room around him. It was small, barely big enough to pace comfortably in, and outfitted with only a single berth- which he was currently sitting on- and a camera in the corner to monitor his movements. The solid door had some sort of glass at optic-level that he couldn't see out of, but he was willing to bet credits that anybot else could see in. The concrete walls were giveaway enough that he wasn't in decepticon clutches, which left him with the autobots. Not that he was really in a position to complain at the moment. They had, after all, fixed him up and refueled him.

He shifted, the berth uncomfortably soft. His quarters on the Nemisis had hardly been sparse, thanks to his post as first lieutenant, but being in the middle of a war and off-world to boot hardly left them with all the comforts of home. The Harbinger had been even worse, but half an orn's worth of Earth nights had left him slowly growing used to the stiffness of the old berths. Thus, the overly-thick memory mesh of the prison's berth was almost too much to bear for his sore frame.

With an ex-vent, he lifted himself up and settled into an empty corner, his back to the camera.


	6. The Difference Between Dreams and Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ::Comm. Speak.::

This was what he lived for. The sun's warmth on his wings, the rush of air wrapping around his frame as he flew, and his trinemates off of either wing.

This was the best part of being a seeker.

::Star, I got something!:: Skywarp transmitted with a happy chirp. ::A signal, two kliks- north by northwest.::

::I've got the same signal,:: Thundercracker confirmed.

::Then let's go,:: Starscream acknowledged, smiling internally when Skywarp crowed cheerfully, wordlessly communicating his satisfaction with being in the air over their trine bond.

He banked steeply, arcing around through the air until his nose was directly on the signal 'Warp had picked up. His trinemates copied the movements easily, never wavering from their designated spots. Pride swelled in Starscream's spark at the testament of how closely tied the trine was, shown outwardly by how well they flew together.

When they were near enough the source of the signal, they smoothly transformed, landing against the dull gray metal of Cybertron's surface as one. “It's this way,” Starscream said, scanning the area for himself.

He took a few steps forward, slowing when the pedesteps of his trinemates didn't reach his audials. He turned back and saw that- sure enough- they had yet to move. Their faceplates were also startlingly blank, looking much like sparkless worker drones.

“'Warp? TC? What's wrong?” he asked softly, sending a questioning poke down the trine bond. Much to his surprise, it was nowhere to be found, as if the two standing in front of him had ceased to be.

“What happened, Starscream?” Thundercracker asked, his voice just as emotionless as his expression.

“You forgot about us,” Skywarp accused, voice equally as empty. The sheer unnaturalness of that- Skywarp was usually as cheerful as a youngling, especially when they were out hunting for energon!- had Starscream drawing his plates tighter around his frame in an automatic defensive attempt. It felt wrong to have to defend himself from his own trinemates.

“What?” he asked, taken aback. “I'm right here! Standing in front of you!”

“But you forgot about us, Starscream,” Skywarp repeated.

“What happened, Starscream?” TC said again.

They began to advance on him, steps timed perfectly. The complete surrealness of the situation, combined with their abnormal, drone-like behavior made Starscream's spark race.

A sudden clang had Starscream sitting bolt upright, systems bypassing normal onlining protocols as he pushed away from the wall. His good optic focused on Ratchet, who'd just walked in through the door was was warily returning the stare. Something about his gaze made Starscream believe he was being viewed as a caged turbo-lion.

Belatedly realizing that he'd experienced nothing more than a memory-turned-charge-fright, Starscream reigned in his field as much as he could to keep his waning terror and fight instincts from the autobots, though it was too late for that, and clamped his plates down as tight as he could. Then he turned and faced the wall again.

The sounds of pedesteps announced Ratchet deciding that the ex-con was not a threat in that moment and entering the cell proper. The door remained open, and Starscream could feel the EM field of another autobot, one whom Starscream couldn't bring himself to care about.

“I'm going to make sure the repairs were successfully integrated into your system,” the medic announced, leaving no room for argument.

Starscream said nothing, processor too full of images of his trinemates. If he'd tried to speak at all, he knew his voice would have been reduced to static and his vocalizer shorted out. Ratchet was keeping his own field reigned in, or else the seeker would have felt the confusion and apprehension that filled it at his lack of response.

Ratchet said nothing, though, sweeping the unresponsive mech in a scan. Starscream figured the results were good enough to pass whatever test the medic had set up, because the pedesteps resounded once again as the autobot retreated from the cell.

“The repairs took,” Ratchet said softly. “He's all yours. Need me to stay?”

“No. Thank you, Ratchet,” came the reply in a deep baritone that could only be the Prime.

Ratchet made a scathing noise as he left, and then the Prime entered the small room, making it feel more cramped than it already was. The door remained open, and if he knew it wasn't a futile attempt to make a run for it, he might have considered the possibility.

The Prime stood there for a moment, that much Starscream could sense. His EM field pressed up against the seeker, obviously trying to get a read on what their prisoner was feeling. Starscream flicked one wing uncomfortably, bristling his plates in slight anger at the intrusion. Prime pulled his field back slightly after a moment, and then the sounds of him sitting on the berth reached Starscream.

“Starscream, I am well aware you do not want to be here,” he started. “But it has also come to my attention that you have defected from the decepticon cause. Any intelligence that you would be willing to give would benefit us both.”

The seeker vented quietly, craning his neck just so to allow Prime to see the unamused look in his functioning red optic. The other flickered slightly, and then Starscream went back to ignoring the autobot.

Prime was silent for a moment, and then he ex-vented and stood. “It is clear you will not speak. I will return next cycle.”

Then he walked out of the cell, and the door slid shut with a resounding _thud,_ leaving Starscream alone once more.

* * *

* * *

The earth days passed by slowly, leaving Starscream with entirely too much time on his servos and nothing to fill it with. As such, he used the time to relive some of his old memories, mostly the ones that involved his now-deceased trinemates. As the days passed, the memories blurred together and mixed with his dreams to the point where he could barely tell which had been reality and what was now hatred-fueled charge frights.

More often than not, voices from his past would whisper through his processor, leaving him half-lost in an ever-waking recharge. Several times he'd found himself staring at the wall, curled up with coolant leaking from his optics.

The only things that kept him grounded- not that he'd ever admit it- were the visits from either Ratchet or Optimus every solar cycle. Every time that one or both of them opened the door, the seeker was forced back down from where his processors roamed and back into his frame, able to discern the differences between what was real and what wasn't once more. They would bring him energon, too. Just enough so that his levels were kept at a steady fifty percent, but he knew they didn't exactly need to be any higher than that.

The cramped quarters and lack of movement were beginning to drive him insane, but he stubbornly remained in the corner, saying nothing at all. Sky-call was also gnawing away at him, sitting in his processor like an itch he couldn't scratch. Seekers weren't meant to be on the ground for so long, but there was little he could do to change that fact at the present.

And so, his captivity stretched out for a full orn, spanning thirteen Earth day and nights.

His chronometer pinged at him, drawing his attention and alerting him to the fact that the autobots were late with their daily visit. That was a first, which surprised him a little. Ratchet seemed to make a point of annoying the seeker with all the medical scans, though he'd not had to make any other repairs to the seeker.

As though he'd summoned them with his thoughts, the cell's door slid open. A field lightly brushed against his own, and Starscream could feel that it was Prime's before he retracted it, as per usual. Starscream shifted until he could lean his helm against the wall behind him, watching the Prime with boredom.

Prime went through the usual motions- setting the half-cube on energon on the floor next to Starscream before taking a seat on the berth- his optics bright as he studied the seeker. That was where the routine changed, though, as the autobot withdrew a data pad from his subspace, onlining it with the flick of a digit to show a map of Earth, and setting that next to Starscream as well.

The ex-con raised an optic ridge, looking at Prime. When the red and blue mech showed no signs of elaborating, Starscream expanded his field to barely brush against the edge of Prime's, a hint of confusion staining the edges.

The cerulean optics glowed slightly brighter, as though the motion pleased him somewhat, and then gestured to the data. “You have no desire to speak. We have no means to force you to do so. This is the middle ground. If you do not comply we will be forced to limit your rations until you do.”

Starscream inclined his head slightly to show that he understood.

Only then the Prime asked, “Where is the location of a deception energon mine?”

The seeker merely watched Prime for half a breem, trying to guess at what his game was. The threat of small rations didn't bother him too much. After all, he'd lived most of the past several vorn on low rations, thanks to Megatron's punishments. But he could detect a hint of weariness on the Prime, both by the look in his optics and from his field, which Starscream hadn't pulled away from.

Soundwave had always kept the locations of the mines from the autobot scanners as best he could, which was startlingly so. And the seeker was willing to bet that the autobots hadn't discovered any of them during the orn of his imprisonment, which led him to realize that his half-cubes weren't necessarily because he was an old enemy, but because the autobots couldn't afford to spare any more.

That fact alone gave him more reason to comply with the Prime's wishes than he'd bargained for, and he told himself that any blow to Megatron's side was a good thing, no matter the servo that dealt it.

Quietly, he reached out for the data, tapping his claws against the screen until a blinking point was set on the map, a row of glyphs next to it that depicted the exact coordinates. Then he offered the data back to Prime, who accepted it with both gratitude and satisfaction coloring his field, though he didn't press it any further into Starscream's.

“Thank you, Starscream,” he said quietly, standing up and exiting the room.

The seeker shuttered his optics in slight surprise, not having expected to be verbally thanked for the deed. Being left alone once more, though, quickly had Starscream zoning back out, and in the span of a few breems he was back in a light recharge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that while AU now, the events of this chapter all take place between "Stronger, Faster" and "One Shall Fall." I'm well aware that Smokescreen arrives in the show somewhere in season two, but I'm changing it up a bit and having him arrive earlier, since it's fanfiction and I can. :3 He'll be in the next chapter, as well as the daily dose of feels!


	7. Of Lies and Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I have no idea when I'll be able to update again. I've got the story 99% planned out, but sometimes new ideas come to me and I have to rewrite the whole plan again to include them.

“So this is the base of operations,” Smokescreen said, glancing around in slight awe. “I have to admit, I thought it would be... fancier.”

The medic, Ratchet, snorted disdainfully from where he was standing at the terminal. “We're in a war on an alien planet where we must remain hidden from the natives. In what way would _fancy_ be of use to us?”

“Sorry,” Smokescreen retorted sarcastically, though he did loosen his plates a little as a show of surrender.

“Don't mind him,” Miko chirped, the little human sliding down the handrail and running up to his pedes with a bright look in her eye. “He's just grumpy that he has to use human technology.”

“You would be, too,” one of the other humans called from the couch. Raf, if Smokescreen remembered correctly. “Imagine that you had to use dial-up every time you wanted to stream a Slash Monkeys song.”

Miko scoffed. “Like that's ever gonna happen!”

“Wait, everything you're running is on human technology?” Smokescreen asked, surprise and disbelief seeping into his field.

“Humph,” Ratchet grumbled. Then he caught sight of their leader as he entered the main room, data pad in servo. “Ah, Optimus. Good. Did you get anything?”

“Indeed,” the large mech intoned, the well-contained joy that radiated from his field meaning it could only be good things. Ratchet moved aside so Optimus could use the terminal, which he hooked up to the data and transferred the contents onto. The holoscreen changed to display a map of the Himalayas and blinking red dot. “A decepticon energon mine awaits us here.”

Ratchet nodded, but the skepticism in his stance and field was glaringly obvious. “Are you sure we can trust this intel, given the nature of our... informant?”

“Why, who told you?” Smokescreen asked, not particularly caring if he was interrupting.

“Our prisoner, Starscream,” Arcee answered, who had just arrived with Bulkhead and who could only be Jack in time to transform up and hear part of the conversation. “But I'm with Ratchet on this one.”

“Woah. You guys are keeping _Starscream_ here? And you didn't tell us?!” Miko asked. Her eyes darted to the hallway Optimus had come from, but Bulkhead predicted her movement and caught her before she could make it very far. “Hey! Lemme go! I wanna see him!”

“That's exactly why we didn't tell you,” Bulkhead said, lifting her up safely from the ground.

“Ex-con or not, he's twenty times your size and still highly dangerous,” Arcee said. “He could rip you to shreds in an instant.”

Bulkhead deposited her back on the catwalk next to Raf, where Jack was walking up to. “They're right, you know. You don't exactly have the best track record when it comes to danger,” the raven-headed human told her. Smokescreen watched them for a moment, hearing Jack go on to ask, “So, who's the new guy?” before tuning them out when Optimus spoke again.

“Despite his history, I have reason to believe Starscream is telling the truth,” Optimus said gently. “As it stands, we will take the necessary precautions before going in. Our need for energon outweighs any benefits of ignoring this chance.”

Ratchet grumbled, and Smokescreen slung an arm around the medic's shoulders. “Aw, c'mon, doc! Energon is energon, and we get to kick some decepticon aft, too!”

His arm was quickly brushed off as the medic's plating bristled. “Don't call me 'doc!' There is more to this war than just fighting. And you need a vehicle mode before you go anywhere!”

“Ratchet is right,” Optimus said. “On this planet we are robots in disguise, and as such, we must maintain forms that blend in.”

Smokescreen huffed, but relented. “Alright? So where am I supposed to pick up a set of wheels?”

“Jack will help you,” Optimus replied, and the newcomer looked at the human.

“Um, sure. Alright,” Jack added, giving Smokescreen a little wave. “Come with me.”

Smokescreen raised an optic ridge at the tiny creature, but followed him to a freight elevator like he'd asked. Before he got on, though, he paused and sent a glance back at the hallway where Starscream was being held.

A real decepticon, huh? He promised himself he'd drop by for a visit at another time, when he could get away with it unnoticed.

* * *

* * *

Starscream's last ration had been a full cube, and that was a luxury he hadn't been expecting. When his readouts alerted him to the fact that he'd capped seventy-two percent, he began to regret consuming the full amount. The more energon that was in his tanks, the more his systems focused on the fact that he was cooped up.

The sky-call was getting worse, pressing down on his processor until he thought it might explode. He subconsciously began to tremble, his plates separating and clenching as though his frame wasn't getting enough air.

The mechanisms in the door started to move, the noise gaining Starscream's attention. The seeker's helm snapped up as the door opened. That in itself was strange enough- Ratchet was early, and he'd never strayed from whatever schedule the 'bots had set up, but the seeker had never been visibly interested in any of his visitors, either. He cursed the sky-call for messing with his system's processes and making him jumpy.

A new mech stepped through the door, clearly not the medic and one that Starscream had never seen before. He was obviously a newcomer, and the seeker could guess that the mech standing before him didn't exactly have permission to be searching for the base's resident prisoner, if the way he was holding himself was anything to go by.

There was a brief look of surprise on the mech's faceplates, which was quickly converted to a calm dominance. His field oozed false bravado and confidence and pressed up harshly against Starscream's.

The seeker's read irritation and trepidation in turn, and he didn't bother to hide it.

The strange mech practically sauntered closer, a sneer coloring his faceplates. “So. You're the infamous Starscream? Don't look like much to me.”

Starscream rolled his good optic, turning to face the wall and resetting himself in his corner. He had yet to speak over the course of his imprisonment, and he saw no reason to start with some random, half-afted, cocky mech.

“I'm sure you're wondering. My designation's Smokescreen,” the mech preened, either not noticing or not caring that Starscream was blatantly uninterested.

The ex-con flicked one wing dismissively at Smokescreen's words, who's field darkened as he took in the motion. The grounder went for Starscream then, roughly grabbing the seeker and spinning the larger framed-mech around to face him. Mute surprise had Starscream unable to fight the motion, as he hadn't had physical contact- unwilling or otherwise- in the time he'd been locked up.

The autobot then pushed him up uncomfortably against the wall and got close, pushing his faceplate in so that there was barely an inch of space between the two. The blue optics were narrowed, and Starscream didn't miss the way that his plates had flared up threateningly, or the fact that the doorwings were pulled in a sharp v.

“I wasn't planning on this, but your silence is aggravating,” he hissed, a dangerous edge appearing that hadn't been there before. “I'll make this simple. Tell me how to find the decepticon base!”

Starscream remained mute, watching Smokescreen warily. _It's a ship. It moves,_ he thought, but he put no voice to the words. A faint hint of amusement made itself known in his field, though.

The grounder growled, one servo transforming into a standard blaster and then jamming the narrow barrel harshly against Starscream's sensitive chestplates. “Talk, slaggit!”

The sensation of the narrow barrel strongly reminded him of a certain warlord's pointed digits, and with a gasp Starscream watched as Smokescreen's features melted away to be replaced with a larger, darker frame.

“N-no...” the seeker muttered, voice barely above static. He pressed himself further into the wall behind him eager to simply melt into it and disappear.

It couldn't be real! He'd clearly been at the autobot's base, right? His two trinemates stood behind Megaton, there disappointed looks cutting through his spark in a way that the warlord had never quite managed to. Was this reality, or some vision he'd cooked up to escape his daily abuse? He couldn't tell anymore.

“Tell me what I want to know, Starscream,” Megatron said lowly, his digits trailing bluntly over the chestplates. Then he tapped against their surface impatiently.

With a whimper, Starscream shrunk in on himself as both the inner and outer sets of plating retracted, exposing himself once again. Something pinched tightly in the process, and warm energon began to flood throughout Starscream's chest cavity. His spark pulsed wildly at the sensation.

Megatron pulled back at that, all trace of contact disappearing as surprise mingled in his field. There was also a shout that sounded from far off. Starscream was fast losing cognitive processes, though, as his cooling fans struggled to keep up with his overheating systems. Rather than fight the numerous warnings that were popping up on his HUD, Starscream shut the display down and shuddered briefly as his critical systems crashed, dragging him into the welcoming blackness of stasis.

* * *

* * *

Ratchet huffed as he scrolled through endless data on the holoscreen, the console humming beneath his digittips. He shut down the alarm on his internal chronometer before it could even go off, knowing full well that it was time to visit their resident prisoner with his daily cube of energon. Repeating the process for an orn had all but drilled the schedule into his processors, as the humans would say.

He put the console on idle, grabbing a full cube from a nearby cart and setting his pedes on course for the makeshift brig. Before he could make it very far, though, Optimus stopped him, a datapad in his servos.

“Please get the location of an additional mine while you're in there,” the red and blue mech rumbled, offering the data over. “Our reserves are greatly replenished after our last excursion, but we can never have too much.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ratchet muttered, tucking the data under his arm. “But we have more pressing matters than that. We both know full well that Starscream is a seeker. They cannot be grounded for too long without going utterly mad. What do you intend to do about that?”

Optimus ex-vented heavily, raising one servo to rub the space between his optics- a gesture he'd picked up from Agent Fowler. “I do not know yet, Ratchet. We will simply have to cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Once again, Ratchet was struck with the reminder just how tired his Prime was- how tired _all_ of them were. One could only take so much war and death to begin with, let alone on an alien planet with so few of their own species. So he held his glossa and simply nodded, walking away without another word.

The cell quickly arrived before him, his thought processes carrying him down the long hallways faster than usual. The medic waited for the door's automatic systems to recognize him as an autobot and open, and when it did he nearly dropped both the data and cube.

Smokescreen had his back to the cell's door, blocking most of Ratchet's view of the inside, but the medic could clearly see that the newest autobot had Starscream pinned against the wall, wings flared uncomfortably to prevent them from jamming into the concrete behind the seeker.

“Smokescreen?!” Ratchet yelped. “What are you doing?!”

He leapt away from Starscream as though he'd been burned, and the ambulance didn't miss the way his servo quickly transformed from its blaster mode. By turning to face Ratchet, Smokescreen left a clear view of Starscream, who slumped to the floor, his good optic dark and the damaged one flickering. His chestplates were also wide open- _both sets._

“I dunno what happened!” Smokescreen said hurriedly as Ratchet rushed over, tossing the cube and data on the unused berth. “I just tapped his plating and he glitched on me!”

Ratchet grumbled something incoherently, pushing past the sports car and gently pulling Starscream so that the seeker's back struts were flat on the floor. It only took one glance into his chest cavity to confirm the fears that had been floating around in the medic's processor since the incident an orn ago. Aside from the glowing energon that was dripping steadily onto the seeker's spark, multiple cracks decorated the surface, some deeper than others. Vorns of extreme stress had been known to cause cracking before, but never to the extent Starscream bore and only to much older bots.

Which left only one cause.

Starscream's spark pulsed faster, and at a more erratic rate, both from its exposure and the energon that dripped onto it. The smell of burning energon permeated the air as it boiled and was absorbed into the spark. Ratchet wasn't too concerned with that- sparks burned hot, any Cybertronian knew this. A few drops of energon contact here and there wasn't a bad thing. In fact, occasional contact could help clean a spark. It was when the spark couldn't absorb any more or began to drown that a real danger existed.

Starscream's made short work of the liquid on it, absorbing and dissolving it before Ratchet's optics. But more kept coming, and Ratchet reached into his subspace for a clamp, shortly ordering, “Smokescreen, hold him down.”

“Why?” the rookie asked, but did as he'd been told. He placed a servo on either pede and pinned them to the ground as Ratchet reached into the seeker's chest cavity.

The instant his digits came into contact with the seeker, Starscream began to thrash around underneath the autobots. It wasn't nearly to the same degree as his fighting had been the evening they'd brought him back to base. Evidently whatever safety programming the seeker had hadn't been tripped this time around, but he was still giving Smokescreen a fairly hard time in keeping him still.

Ratchet quickly grabbed the source of the leak- the t-cog nullifier had gotten caught when Starscream's chest plating had opened, almost ripping the wires it was attached to and tearing into a main line that was close by- and fed it the deactivation code. It chirped at him and shut down, falling off of the wires and into his servo. Then he fastened the clamp to the line and transformed a servo into his welder.

“Why is he fighting so much?!” Smokescreen asked through grit denta. “He's in stasis!”

Ratchet made a small noise to acknowledge the question, but he didn't answer it. He easily took care of the leak, and then paused to confirm it was the only one. As he did so, his optics were pulled to the damaged spark once more, which was now clear of energon. The medic took a still image of it to study the damage further and then re-fastened the nullifier to a group of wires- well away from any potential mishaps.

With an ex-vent, Ratchet carefully shut the inner plates, and then the outer ones. Starscream slowly settled after that, going from full-fight mode to the occasional twitch.

“What in the name of Primus was that?” Smokescreen asked, letting go the seeker's pedes.

“Nothing good,” Ratchet answered darkly, sweeping a scan over the unconscious mech. The results came back clean- or at least as clean as they could be, considering the blunt trauma to the now-hidden spark. The medic stifled the urge to vent again, slightly glad that he knew what the strange readings now meant, at the very least.

Smokescreen raised an optic ridge, not satisfied with Ratchet's answer, but the medic didn't deign to expand on it. He stashed his scanner again and grabbed the abandoned datapad, leaving the cube of energon behind for when Starscream woke. Then he pointedly gestured for Smokescreen to leave the cell.

The rookie glared at Ratchet, but stomped out of there all the same.

With one last glance back in at Starscream's limp frame in his corner, Ratchet balled one servo into a fist and let the door slide shut, angry that he was so helpless in this kind of situation.


	8. When in Doubt

“Would you mind telling me why you felt the need to be in there?” Ratchet asked, raising an optic ridge at Smokescreen.

The mech had the grace to look ashamed of himself, but the medic chalked it up to the fact that Optimus was standing before them, and Smokescreen usually seemed to be worried about the way he carried himself in front of his idol.

“I- I thought I could get him to talk,” Smokescreen said, plates lifting to show his surrender. “And I wanted to see him for myself. The big, bad, decepticon second-in-command? I'd only ever heard stories!”

Ratchet had to work hard to not roll his optics. “You sound like the children! Need I remind you that he is still combat-capable and dangerous, should he feel the need to attack?”

“Ratchet is right,” admonished Optimus quietly. “It was reckless of you to approach Starscream, especially without obtaining permission beforehand.”

Smokescreen ducked his head, his field laced with regret and apology. Ratchet was suddenly slightly grateful that the base was empty aside from the three of them and Starscream- the others had departed to take the humans home. Optimus set a servo on Smokescreen's shoulder plating, making the younger mech raise his optics once more.

“You will be confined to your quarters until Ratchet or I come to get you,” their Prime said, a strong hint of order in his tone, though it was softened with the calmness that the red and blue mech always seemed to emit.

“Yes, sir,” Smokescreen muttered, turning on his heelstrut and retreating to his room as he'd been asked.

Once he was out of audial range, Ratchet gave a heavy ex-vent. “He's going to be a servo-full. As if we didn't have enough problems already.”

“He is young,” Optimus replied, a hint of something the medic couldn't quite read in his optics. His field was equally empty. “He still has much to learn, but his spark is in the right place.”

Ratchet grumbled, but conceded that his Prime had a point.

“There's another matter we need to discuss, Optimus,” he said, stopping the mech before he could leave the main room. Optimus rose an optic ridge in prompting, and Ratchet continued. “It's Starscream. The day we brought him here, my scanners picked up... something strange. When he began to fight back, I let the matter rest, but thanks to Smokescreen... Well, I think you should see for yourself.”

He sent a copy of the still image he'd taken of the seeker's spark over Optimus' personal comm. link, and he felt the minute shifts in the Prime's field as he processed the information. His optics brightened, and the barely-contained rage that stained his field had Ratchet pulling back from it slightly.

“Megatron?” Optimus asked, reigning his field in as a way of apologizing.

“I'm not sure. There's no way to tell for sure, but I wouldn't put it past him,” Ratchet replied, turning to the console and uploading the still image to his medical files. He coded a program to analyze the cracks for exact widths and depths, and then turned back to Optimus. “Who else has the strength or power to give that kind of abuse and get away with it? Even among the 'cons?”

“I had never thought of him like this,” Optimus said darkly. “Excuse me. I need to go clear my helm. Alert me when Starscream is online again.”

Ratchet nodded in acknowledgment, and then Optimus transformed down. Revving his engine, the Prime drove out of the silo, leaving Ratchet alone with his thoughts.

* * *

* * *

There was a full cube of energon, just _sitting_ there. Taunting him. Making his tanks rumble.

Starscream's optic ridge twitched.

His levels were at 54%- not bad, all things considered, but his processor was repeatedly alerting him to the fact that there was fuel _right there._

And the sky-call was lurking at the edge of each and every process his systems were running, begging for the fuel so it could become stronger. Watching... Waiting...

The door slid open, interrupting the seeker's staring contest with the glowing energon as he jerked his helm toward the current visitor.

The Prime stood in the doorway, frame hunched slightly so that the tall mech could see in the cell. He simply observed Starscream for the span of several nano-kliks, but it felt like vorn before the leader of the autobots entered the cell and took his usual place on the berth.

“I would like to apologize on Smokescreen's behalf,” he rumbled gravely, folding his servos together and offering Starscream a somber, but sincere look. “Rest assured he had no right to approach you as he did, and is facing consequence.”

Starscream shuttered his optic briefly, mutely watching the Prime. Smokescreen was... oh! That new mech, right? He couldn't quite place it. Between the constantly-fluctuating energon levels, his imprisonment, and the ever-increasing sky-call, he was having a hard time even keeping track of the cycles. The more he dwelt on it, though, the more he could recall of the previous encounter that had happened... a couple of joor ago, if his internal chronometer was accurate.

His confusion seeped into his field, and he could suddenly feel the concern in the Prime's as the mech tentatively pressed it against his. Starscream shuttered his optic and reigned in his own, not wanting the Prime's attention focused on him more than it needed to be. The mech was silent for a long moment, and Starscream silently begged Primus that he would simply move on. Thankfully, the Prime didn't mention it.

Instead, he reached into his subspace for the datapad bearing the map, onlining the device and offering it to the seeker. Starscream accepted it, and then stared at it for a klik, long talons curling over the screen. He debated with himself over giving a false location, or none at all, and then had to remind himself that every mine was a blow in Megatron's side, no matter how small.

And if he chose one of the mines he knew still had heavy vehicon activity levels, well... he wasn't talking, anyways.

Two breems later, he was alone once more, and the energon had begun calling his designation again. A lack of distractions to offer him any forms of relief had his focus narrowing on the glowing cube until the rest of the world had ceased to exist, and he swore that he could hear far-off voices.

“Drink it, Starscream,” Skywarp whispered.

“What happened, Starscream?” Thundercracker added.

“Do I need to punish you again?” Megatron's voice spoke up, almost purring.

The seeker's fans powered up to their highest setting, adding a level of noise to the otherwise quiet room to combat his sudden panic, and the cube was flung against the far wall. The voices disappeared when the cube shattered, splattering the wall with the energon.

The glowing liquid began to slowly trickle down the wall, puddling on the floor. Starscream sunk back into his corner, curling in on himself and cupping his helm with both servos.

A whimper almost too soft to hear escaped his vocalizer and faded in the cool air that carried the heavy scent of energon.

* * *

* * *

The next time his daily energon was due to be delivered, Arcee was the one to show up bearing a cube. This was the first Starscream had seen of her since their brawl outside the _Nemisis_ , and the two-wheeler didn't exactly look happy to see him, either.

She stood in the doorway for a long moment, staring at him. Then she boldly strode right up to the seeker, almost towering over him while he huddled in his corner.

“So. This is how you spend your days. Sulking.” When he didn't respond, she furrowed her optic ridges and spat, “Pathetic.”

That also failed to get a rise out of him, and he firmly kept his gaze aimed at the wall. Starscream's sensors picked up that Arcee's arm that held the cube lifted higher. Then his frame was coated in the sticky, slightly chilled energon as the femme poured it over him. He flinched slightly, but otherwise ignored her, despite the way the liquid slid between some of his plates and pooled in between wires and cables. “You don't deserve energon, _'con._ Not after what you did to Cliff,” she growled, dropping the cube and turning on her heelstrut. It hit the ground with a clatter as the door slid closed.

Starscream closed his optics.

* * *

* * *

Ratchet muttered under his breath, digits dancing over the keyboards as he fed the terminal commands. His custom-made program came back negative, the flashing red glyphs covering a portion of the still image the medic had taken of Starscream's spark. He waved the words aside, trying a new algorithm. It failed to give him any answers as well, and an error popped up as the whole program crashed. He growled, but refrained from smashing his fist into the keyboard like he wanted to. There was no way the human tech could withstand the force of an angry cybertronian medic, and asking Agent Fowler for replacements would only induce another processor-ache.

He didn't have enough data to run the calculations that he wanted- that much was obvious. But short of asking Starscream for a closer look (which Ratchet knew he'd never be able to bring himself to do), he could only keep running variations of his calculations in vain attempts to have something come through with the answers he needed.

Ratchet shut down the program, ex-venting hard. His optics strayed to the monitor that depicted the inside of Starscream's cell, though its feed hardly ever changed due to the seeker's lack of movement. He was in his corner, as per usual, but what wasn't usual was the glowing energon that coated his slim frame, puddling on the floor underneath him. His optics were dark as well, and Ratchet's systems stalled.

“Bumblebee! Watch the children!” he called, covering the distance between the monitor and the hallway in a matter of nanokliks without waiting for a response. Rafael's calls as to where he was going went unanswered.

He hurriedly fed the door its override code- which was changed daily now, thanks to Smokescreen- and watched as it opened all too too slowly, in his opinion. The medic slid through the doorway before it was entirely open and was immediately hovering over Starscream's form, ready to scan the seeker to assess the damage.

Starscream's good optic onlining threw him for a loop, though, and then the seeker tensed and pushed himself further into the wall in an attempt to evade the sudden proximity Ratchet had incurred. Losing that amount of energon would most certainly leave a 'bot in an emergency stasis, if not one with the Well of Allsparks entirely. The seeker's field, however, read no pain that Ratchet could discern, and he was obviously still online.

A hint of embarrassment seeped into Ratchet's own field, and he pulled it back the best he could in hopes that Starscream wouldn't catch on. He pushed himself back- giving Starscream more space- and asked, “Are you hurt?”

Surprise shone in the seeker's optic, and the dead one flickered slightly. The seeker's plates also rose slightly in a show of something along the lines of relaxing, but he quickly clamped them back down again when the energon covering him used the motion to slide underneath the plating uncomfortably. He shook his helm, obviously not used to being cared for in that manner. It made Ratchet wonder how the decepticon cause hadn't crumbled in on itself yet if not even its second-in-command had had his well-being noticed.

As Ratchet stood up, something crunched underneath his pede. A glance down revealed it to be the remains of an empty energon cube. His optics narrowed as he processed this. Unless Starscream had suddenly decided to take an energon bath for no apparent reason, it seemed that the medic needed to have a chat with a certain femme...

“I will return in a moment,” Ratchet said, sending a backwards glance at Starscream out of habit more than anything. He'd- predictably- not moved from his corner, and did nothing more than blink at the ambulance.

Ratchet turned absently and left the cell, only jolted out of his thoughts by a familiar head of pink hair attempting to slide under his pedes and into the cell. Thanks to his fast reflexes as both a soldier and medic, he scooped Miko up before she could make it into the room and carried her away as the door slid closed and locked itself.

“Hey! C'mon, Ratchet! I wanna see him!” Miko whined, but Ratchet ignored her in favor of turning to meet Bumblebee's optic, who was also in the hallway in an obvious attempt to catch the escape-artist. Both Jack and Rafael were hot on the scout's heelstruts.

“Is Bulkhead back from his patrol yet?” Ratchet asked.

Bumblebee blinked. _“Yes, but Arcee's still out,”_ the scout whirred.

“Good,” Ratchet grunted, setting his course for the main room and refusing to put Miko down. “Bulkhead, I need you to watch the children,” he announced as they entered the room.

The wrecker raised an optic ridge, but accepted his charge as she pouted. “Why, what's going on?”

“I'll explain later,” was the medic's reply, waving aside the question. Then he pointed a digit at Miko. “Stay. I mean it, Miko. If you attempt to follow me again, I'll personally see to it that you're banned from the base for at least an orn. Bumblebee, with me.”

He made sure to grab a pair of stasis cuffs on his way back to the hallway, and he could hear Bumblebee behind him, a degree of confusion emanating from his field.

The door admitted them once more, and Starscream's red optic met Ratchet's blue ones curiously when the ambulance stepped back into the room. “Get up, Starscream,” Ratchet said to him, though his tone was fairly neutral. He held up the cuffs. “We'll take you to the washracks. You'll be uncuffed there so you may wash yourself, but Bumblebee and I will have to stay in the room in case you decide to try anything.”

Bumblebee's field pressed up against Ratchet's, communicating his shock at Starscream's state and his dislike of the idea, but the scout didn't say anything and Ratchet refused to relent. Dried energon tended to flake into one's plating and itch something fierce, to say nothing of what had already gotten inside. Preventing any future issues was the only point of this exercise.

For a moment, it seemed that Starscream was simply going to stay in his corner, but he eventually got to his pedes, keeping a servo on the wall for support the entire time. He allowed the cuffs to be snapped on his wrists, and then Ratchet led the way out of the cell while Bumblebee wordlessly followed behind the seeker, one servo transforming into his blasters.

Thankfully, Bulkhead seemed to have a better handle on the children than Bumblebee had, and no humans followed the three mechs to the washracks.

Once inside, Ratchet stayed true to his word and uncuffed the seeker, who proceeded to slowly study the room. It was simple, as far as washracks went, equipped with multiple doorless units that had separate, heated solvent tanks, and a single, large panel of flooring that could dry several 'bots at once with powerful blasts of air from underneath. When Starscream was apparently satisfied with his findings, he stepped into one of the units and activated it. The spray of warm solvent soon had him relaxing, and his plates lifted to allow the cleaning solution beneath them.

Something about the way that Starscream twisted to reach his back plating, servos trailing over his wings to make sure they were clean, had Ratchet's faceplates heating slightly, and his engine coughed as he forced himself to look away.

Bumblebee sent him a concerned look, but Ratchet shook his helm, indicating he was alright.

Ratchet allowed Starscream to stand in the solvent's stream a few kliks longer than was strictly necessary, and when Bee started to fidget he told the seeker that it was time to return to his cell. Starscream didn't fuss, turning the washrack off and using the drying station before returning to Ratchet and offering up his wrists.

There were no problems in getting the seeker back to his energon-stained cell, though Ratchet was at a loss of what to do about that for the time being. Instead, he left Starscream with a fresh cube to make up for the one Arcee had wasted and a mental note to have the cell cleaned at some point in the near future.

When the medic happened to glance at the monitor again a groon later, Starscream was back in his corner, and the energon was untouched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a chapter with both heavy and light notes. Things get better from here on out for Starscream, I promise. He'll speak for the first time since his imprisonment next chapter, so stay tuned!


	9. A Breath of Fresh Air

::Ratchet, I have some concerns about Starscream,:: Optimus transmitted, making Ratchet jump at the unexpected comm.

::What is it?:: Ratchet replied, onlining a backup processor to continue running his calculations while he listened to his Prime. His digits continued to mess with the various parts of the solar energon converter that he was attempting to build.

::When I apologized on Smokescreen's behalf the other day, he expressed some confusion. I did not think much of it then, but I have cause to believe he is experiencing cognitive difficulties, among other things.::

Ratchet's optics narrowed, and he tightened a set of screws as he mulled over the thought. ::Mm, it wouldn't surprise me. The amounts of stress he's endured could cause any number of problems. The fact that we have him locked up and he's undoubtedly dealing with sky-call certainly isn't helping matters.::

Optimus was silent for a long moment, but whether he was contemplating the idea or focusing on his driving as he patrolled Jasper, Ratchet couldn't tell. ::What else could he experience, if anything?::

::Flashbacks, hallucinations, increased anxiety, to list a few,:: Ratchet listed absently. ::Worst-case scenario, the cracks in his spark could cause a permanent reduced energon output, or fail entirely.:: He paused to take a step to the side, allowing him to see the monitor displaying Starscream's cell. The energon was still sitting on the berth, untouched since Ratchet had put it there after the seeker's trip to the washracks nearly a day ago. ::The fact that he refuses to fuel will only worsen things. I've rarely worked with 'bots with this degree of trauma; he could have already had some of these symptoms that we simply missed.::

::That is... troubling. Keep an optic out for any of them, old friend.::

::Will do.::

Optimus dropped the link, and Ratchet attempted to focus himself back on his task. The conversation had him thinking along other lines, though, and he couldn't stop himself from glancing back at the monitor. The medic began moving almost before he realized he wanted to, abandoning his tools on their table and heading down the hall. When he reached the door and its systems pinged him for the authorization code, he hesitated. The medic had no real goal here, so why was he bothering?

Something nagged at him, though, and he wanted to believe that it was his medic's coding. Some part of him deep down knew that it wasn't, but he swept that tiny voice aside and fed the door its code. His optics were solely focused on the seeker as he stepped inside, who took a moment longer than usual to come online. That made Ratchet wonder if he'd been on the brink of recharge.

No words were exchanged, which wasn't a surprise from Starscream's end. An air of awkwardness settled over the room, and Ratchet stiffly walked over to the berth to take up the position Optimus always claimed in his visits. The untouched cube was right next to him, and he picked it up for something- anything, really- to do. Starscream's optics were piercing straight through Ratchet's armor, and his field was full of hesitant curiosity.

“Why aren't you drinking your energon?” Ratchet asked, the words escaping him of their own accord.

He glanced at the seeker for his response, though, knowing full well it was too late to take back the words. Starscream looked taken aback, obviously not expecting the question.

Ratchet let his optics fall, not expecting any sort of answer from the stubborn ex-con. So when a quiet voice spoke, the medic's optics snapped back up, wide with surprise.

“I don't deserve it.”

Starscream's voice was laced with static from its lack of use, but the tone was unmistakably depressed.

“What?” Ratchet protested faintly, hardly daring to believe what he'd heard. “But if you don't... you'll offline.”

“Good,” Starscream said fiercely, a dark look in his good optic. Then he reigned his field in tight and turned his back on the medic.

Ratchet's jaw nearly fell open, as though it had been unhinged. He recognized dismissal when he saw it, though, and he somehow knew that Starscream wasn't going to say anything else. As he quickly walked out of the cell, he opened up a comm. line.

::Optimus, we have a problem.::

* * *

* * *

Starscream vented heavily, wings twitching.

His energon levels were reading at twenty three percent- very close to the red zone, or as most medical officers would call it, the “dead zone,” and only a few joor away from an emergency medical stasis (which generally kicked in at about fifteen percent.) This didn't seem to deter the sky-call in the least. The urge to abandon the ground and feel earth's sun on his wings drove out almost all other thought processes.

His plates flexed, lifting and clamping repeatedly as though his intakes weren't getting enough air. He locked his servos on his helm, sharp digits leaving tiny dents as he tightened his grip.

Anything would be better than this.

Facing _Megatron_ would be better than this.

He growled, lowering his arms and slamming the back of his helm into the wall, not caring one bit about the pain.

It was at that time that the door to his cell opened, and Starscream dully stared down his latest visitors. Optimus Prime ducked into the room, closely followed by Ratchet. Neither of them said anything, but they didn't need to for Starscream to know what they wanted. It was clear enough when he caught sight of the stasis cuffs in Ratchet's servos. A sinking feeling plagued the seeker's tanks, but he remained silent.

A quiet word from the Prime gained Starscream's attention, and he turned his good optic from the medic to the red and blue mech. After a moment of heavy silence, he ex-vented and stood up. It would be easier on all parties present to simply obey.

The cuffs were quickly magnetized to his servos, and then he was escorted out of the cell. The Prime took point and Ratchet followed behind somewhat stiffly. His field had been pulled in tight, giving Starscream no indication to the medic's mood or related thoughts. Prime, on the other servo, was another matter. He radiated an infectious calm and sense of purpose. If either of those were being forced, Starscream would be impressed.

It quickly became apparent that the base was empty aside from them, the other autobots either making themselves scarce or out on missions. The human children that the autobots seemed to love entertaining were nowhere in sight, either, and Starscream was thankful for the small things.

The short trek across what appeared to be the main room gave the seeker his first real look at the inside of the base of operations that had remained hidden from Megatron for so long. It was nothing special from what could be seen, Starscream decided, and a fair amount of surprise leeched into his field when he realized they were using what looked suspiciously like human technology. He was led to a freight elevator before he really had a chance to study the place, the Prime and medic boxing him in.

With a jolt, the old machinery shuddered to life and started moving, carrying the three mechs upwards and catching Starscream by surprise. He didn't want to admit it, but he'd been sure that he was being taken to some sort of underground torture chamber to be offlined for good. But upwards? Towards what would inevitably be a roof of some sort? They were letting him free...?

His wings twitched as the elevator began opening, letting in the dying rays of earth's sun. For the first time in nearly two orn, fresh air filtered through his vents, and a light breeze tickled his plating. He hadn't realized just how much he'd missed this, and his wings rose as his optic brightened.

A part of him was aware of his captors watching his reactions, but he was too giddy to care. When the elevator lurched to a stop, the seeker had to raise his servos to shield his optics from the setting sun, not used to the level of brightness that now assaulted his optic. Even that couldn't ruin his elevated mood, especially as the evening breeze curled around his frame, the caresses of an old friend welcoming him back.

They were on top of what appeared to be a canyon, nearly identical to those surrounding it and spreading out across the desert that went on for miles. As his optic adjusted, he lowered his servos and took a moment to bask in the simple _openness_ that surrounded him, loving every nanoklik of it.

“I'm afraid that we are unable to let you fly, Starscream,” Prime said, jolting the seeker back down to earth. He'd almost forgotten that they were there, and his helm snapped over to where the Prime stood. “This is the best we can offer.”

He studied the mech for a moment, and then dipped his helm to show his understanding and appreciation, despite the irritation eating at him that he wouldn't get to feel that wind upon his wings properly.

The Prime sat down on an outcropping of rock, but Ratchet chose to remain standing, crossing his arms over his chassis as he did so. Briefly wondering the point of this exercise (but not about to complain), Starscream walked as close to the edge of the cliff-face as he could, venting in deeply. Ratchet's engine revved in warning, but the seeker paid him no mind, perching on the edge and making no move to go any further.

“Starscream,” Prime said gently. He flicked a wing in acknowledgment, but otherwise didn't move. “If you wish to speak, we will listen.”

The seeker wanted to scoff, but couldn't seem to bring himself to. The Prime was being blatantly honest, and the thought was almost sickening in a caring sort of way. He shot a sideways glance at the medic, whose optics had yet to leave the seeker's frame, and then returned to watching the sunset, ignoring them both.

The Prime seemed to get the message, saying, “Ratchet, please return inside.”

Ratchet sputtered. “I don't think so! What if he tries something?!”

“Your concern is noted. I will comm. if I need your help.” There was no room for argument in his tone, and Starscream could practically feel the medic seething.

After a moment, Ratchet muttered, “Very well,” and handed a small signal-jamming device over before returning to the elevator, leaving the seeker alone with the very Prime that Starscream had been brainwashed to hate since the dawn of the war. He could feel Prime's optics on him, and he ex-vented heavily.

Prime said nothing else, though, clearly leaving it up to Starscream to fill the silence. He debated on letting it slide and focus on the scenery instead. Being on the top of the silo was doing wonders for the seeker, chasing the sky-call off until it had been reduced to near nonexistence.

“I... never had much in life,” Starscream said, not realizing he'd spoken until the words hung between them, heavy in the air. Sporadic bursts of static almost drowned out most of his words, but once he started talking, he found it hard to stop, and the static slowly passed on. “My creators were both important figureheads in the Vosian Council, and I was sent to the Royal Vos Academy from a very young age. It was always clear exactly what was expected to me, and what I could or couldn't do.

“I'd just gotten my final frame when I met Skywarp and Thundercracker. They were... well, they were the first ones I'd ever considered my friends.” He broke off, processor recalling an image of them that he could barely recall taking, from when they'd first been trined and had completed a celebratory flight to the tips of the lofty city of Vos. The Prime said nothing, so he pressed on. “My creators never liked them, and when I broke the news to them that we'd trined, they were furious. They'd wanted the best and brightest for their creation, seekers that could stand behind a Lord Seeker and look the part... It was too late for that, though, and they never forgave me for it.

“Then I met Megatronus. He was... he was everything he that _Megatron_ isn't. He cared about what he was fighting for, and...” Starscream trailed off, shuttering his optics in pain for a moment. “He cared for me. I joined his cause at his insistence for the chance to leave Vos behind. 'Warp and TC came with me, of course, but only because I asked them to. TC didn't like the idea, but it was 'Warp who protested. ...I should have listened to him.” He vented heavily. “We were energon seekers at first. Nothing could have been better. The three of us, the open air, and all of Cybertron before us. But then came the battle of Tyger Pax.”

The Prime's curiosity became clouded with a heavy layer of regret, and then he pulled his field back. Starscream sent a glance over his shoulder, meeting the autobot's optics. “That battle wasn't just a loss for the autobots,” the seeker said softly, dropping his gaze.

“That was when you lost your trinemates,” he realized.

“My trinemates, and Megatronus. I called off our courtship, and it only encouraged his wrath. He may have changed his designation before that battle, but he only lost himself after it. I thought you knew that, Prime.”

The autobot vented. “Not specifically, no. And please, call me Optimus.”

Starscream cast a wary optic on the Prime- Optimus, and nodded tentatively. Then he continued on.

“After that, he only got worse. He didn't care about the troops he'd lost. He didn't care that _I'd_ lost my trine. It was only about furthering the cause. He became harsher and more withdrawn. Mere suggestions were treated with hostility, and he cared for no mech but himself.”

Starscream trailed off, voice choking with static. Optimus took the chance to interject a quiet question, one that had the seeker visibly flinching and laying a servo over his sparkchamber.

“And the forced merges?”

Starscream shuttered his optic, a growl building up in his vocal processor. It didn't surprise him to learn that Optimus knew. He'd hoped, but... “After we lost Cybertron,” he answered simply, knowing full well that the answer gave Optimus an exact frame length of the time Starscream had had to endure Megatron's wrath. “He wasn't to be denied what he'd had willingly before.”

It was glaringly obvious that he was hoping for more on the subject, but Starscream couldn't bring himself to divulge any other information. Not yet, at least. The wounds were still too fresh. The servo over his chestplates clenched, his talons lightly scraping the paint.

Optimus ex-vented heavily, displaying a level of weariness that Starscream hadn't known he'd carried. “You have endured much, Starscream. That much is obvious.” He raised a servo when the seeker sent him a glare, cutting off any words that were building up in the ex-con. “Do not mistake that for pity. I know you do not want that, at least not from me. However, I am willing to offer you the same that I did to Skyquake and Dreadwing. Join our cause. You don't have to wander the wilderness or be confined to a cell; the choice is yours.”

Starscream scoffed, a strangled laugh bubbling out as he turned on his heelstrut and began to pace, wings twitching with pent-up frustration and old ire from the memories of his past. “So I can be your punching bag instead of Megatron's?! No, thank you!”

The last of the sun's rays slid from the sky as it disappeared over the horizon, the full moon rising opposite and bathing the desert in a silvery glow. Starscream took no notice of it, too busy ignoring the look of sorrow that Optimus was fixing on him.

“Would you really believe I treat those under my command the same as Megatron?” he asked quietly, and the level of unspoken disappointment in his tone nearly had Starscream flinching again. “I won't pressure you for an answer right now. All I ask is that you think about it, Starscream.”

The seeker sighed, stopping in his pacing and letting his wings droop. He sent a sideways glance at Optimus, and nodded apologetically. “Very well, Optimus.”

Optimus dipped his helm and stood up. He said nothing else, but it was clear enough that the seeker's time on the surface had come to a close. Starscream was ushered onto the elevator once more, which he did without complaint. As much as he loathed to leave behind the open sky, Starscream found just how unwilling he was to strain the small amount of trust that the autobots had placed in him.

He could feel Optimus' optics on him once more as the elevator's roof began to close, but the seeker spent the last few moments studying the starry sky before the doors shut, irrationally fearful that he might never see it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well. Finally, some character and plot developments! We get a hint of Starscream's past, and a hint of what's to come in the future. But will the others be as understanding as Optimus was?  
> As always, a huge thank you for all the kudos, bookmarks, and comments! They are what keeps me writing. :)


	10. A Change of Spark

The console beeped, alerting Ratchet that it had completed a series of algorithms. He glanced up from where he'd been working on repairing yet another tool that Bulkhead had broken, hardly daring to believe his audials. He set his tools down and pressed a key, lighting the holoscreens up and skimming the readouts that it bore.

He sucked in a heavy vent of air.

All optics in the room turned to him, feeling the fluctuations in his field if they hadn't heard his vent. His optics went straight to Optimus, though, who stood on the other side of the room. The red and blue mech raised an optic ridge, having an idea of what Ratchet had just learned. The rest of the team, though, appeared confused at the medic's actions.

Bulkhead began to ask as much, but was interrupted when the proximity sensors began to wail.

Ratchet turned and pressed a button, changing one of the holoscreens to display the camera feed on the roof of the silo. An army helicopter was parked, and a familiar face was walking towards the elevator.

“What's Fowler doing here?” Arcee asked, the closest one to the monitor aside from Ratchet and easily catching sight of the screen.

“I have asked him here to discuss something important,” Optimus answered, gaining the attention of everyone as they shifted to look at him instead of Ratchet.

“Team meeting?” Smokescreen asked, who'd recently begun to be let out of his berthroom more often. He seemed to have learned his lesson, though, and was keeping well away from the hallways that housed Starscream's cell. “Why didn't you tell us?

“It is of a rather sensitive nature, and I did not want to repeat myself,” Optimus answered.

The elevator lurched to a loud halt, opening to admit Fowler into the room. Ratchet followed the man's movements with his optics, and the man leaned on the railing in front of him as he surveyed the room with a terse, “Team Prime.”

“Agent Fowler,” Optimus replied, inclining his helm.

The human let go of the railing and wandered down to the catwalk that the children had claimed as their own, taking a moment to observe the empty surroundings. Ratchet quickly checked his internal chronometer and noted that the children had been taken home two hours ago. Fowler claiming a seat on one of the couches reclaimed Ratchet's attention, and the man asked, “You wanted to talk, Prime?”

“Yes. It is a matter that all of you need to hear. It would be better if you could keep a majority of this conversation from your superiors, Agent, until we all have a better understanding of its outcome,” Optimus stated.

Fowler raised an eyebrow, but he inclined his head and gestured for the Prime to continue.

“Alright, what is this about, Optimus?” Bulkhead asked, crossing his arms over his chestplates. Bumblebee had similar confusion written all over his faceplates, and Ratchet pursed his lipplates.

“I have asked Starscream to join our cause, and have reason to believe he will accept.”

A flurry of activity broke out, everyone talking at once and trying to be heard over each other. Bulkhead and Smokescreen yelled, “You did what?!” and “You can't be serious!” respectively, while Bumblebee whirred incomprehensibly. The cube that Arcee had been drinking from shattered as she tightened her grip on it. If the children had been there as well, they would have undoubtedly added to the din.

Ratchet vented.

Optimus raised a servo for silence, which fell after a few grumbles from certain mechs. Ratchet observed the way his Prime was studying their liaison, who had yet to give any sort of response other than blinking at the news. The medic turned his own gaze to the human, who looked rather pensive. Then he gave a single nod.

“I trust you, Prime, even if I can't say the same of the 'con. But what in the name of Washington made you ask him this?”

“Yeah, and what makes you think he won't betray us to the decepticons the moment he's out of that cell?” Arcee asked, a notable degree of fury in her tone.

“Once a 'con, always a 'con,” Bulkhead muttered darkly.

 _“Optimus has to have a good reason for this, guys,”_ Bumblebee intervened with a warbling chirp. He turned his optics to the aforementioned mech. _“Right?”_

“Starscream will never willingly return to the decepticons,” Optimus rumbled, and it didn't go unnoticed that Arcee caught the loophole in his words.

“But he could by force,” the femme pointed out. “Or he could offline any of us when our backs were turned. How do you expect us to believe that, anyways? After all he's done?”

Optimus exchanged a glance with Ratchet, who ex-vented heavily.

“Starscream has been the unwilling participant of forced sparkmerges for vorn,” the medic said, unhappiness layering every aspect of his frame as he revealed this, both from the nature of the news and the fact that it wasn't truly his to tell. “Optimus and I strongly believe that it was by Megatron himself.”

Silence followed the words, broken only by an unintelligibly shocked, “...What?” from Bulkhead.

 _“How many vorn?”_ Bumblebee demanded, optics wider than usual.

“Since Cybertron fell,” Optimus answered heavily.

The scout glanced away uneasily, and both Bulkhead and Smokescreen looked shocked. Even Arcee appeared troubled.

Fowler, on the other servo, looked outright lost. “That's bad, right?” he asked, raising and eyebrow.

“Very,” Ratchet nodded, answering before anyone else could. “A Cybertronian spark is a physical manifestation of what humans consider a soul. Simply put, it is our lifeforce.” He laid a servo over his chestplates, and Fowler nodded. “Merging two sparks is pleasurable, and repeated merges can form permanent sparkbonds, and sometimes sparklings. Err, children.”

It was easy to see the gears in Fowler's head turning, and he used Ratchet's pause to ask, “Hold up. Sparkbonds?”

“There are many types of sparkbonds, but for the purposes of this conversation, a sparkbond is held between sparkmates, and would be the equivalent of marriage between two humans,” Optimus explained.

Ratchet nodded. “Yes, but sparkmates are for life. They are linked through their sparks and can sense one another through that bond- communicate, and so forth- but when one dies, the bond is broken and the pain is so extreme that the other usually follows.” Fowler's brows were furrowed, but he seemed to be taking the information in stride and nodded again. “Forced sparkmerges, though, are painful- usually to both parties. They are also very damaging to the sparks involved. I've met mechs with psyches so broken after only one forced merge that could barely function. It's a wonder that Starscream is even still alive.”

“How bad is the damage, really?” Smokescreen interjected, looking vaguely terrified. “I mean, I saw briefly, but it all happened so fast, and there was energon everywhere...”

Ratchet vented. “The worst of the cracks look to be almost a digit wide. To make matters worse, my calculations were completed-” he waved a servo to the holoscreens behind him- “and they predict that if he'd been forced through it even once more, the cracks would have reached his laser core, and he would be offline.”

Arcee glanced away, field unreadable.

“So, this... merging. It cracks your sparks?” Fowler asked, folding his arms over his chest.

“Only a forced merge,” Optimus answered for Ratchet. “I am no medic, but I've heard that the pain and stress of the activity is what causes this.”

Ratchet nodded. “There are more technicalities than that, but you get the point. This is why forced merges are so frowned upon, though, I'd assumed, even among the decepticon ranks. In human terms, it would be the equivalent of what you call 'rape.' I think our resident seeker has had more than enough of it for any number of lifetimes.” He sent a glance at Arcee. “He won't go back. It would only result in his death.”

The femme's optics hardened, and she pulled her field in close as her fists clenched.

“Alright, alright,” Fowler said, standing up and looking convinced. “Do what you have to, Prime. Just do me a favor and don't screw this up.”

“Many thanks, Agent Fowler,” Optimus replied, inclining his helm.

Then the human disappeared into the depths of the elevator and was whisked back topside.

“I still don't know about this,” Bulkhead said uneasily. “Bad history with Megatron or not, think about his bad history with us! Do you really thing he could change?”

“We have to believe in that possibility,” Optimus said gravely. “Without that hope, or hope at all, our chances of winning this war decrease with each passing day.”

“Arcee?” Ratchet asked, not liking the way the two-wheeler was remaining carefully silent.

Her fists trembled, and she said darkly, “I'll never trust him.” Then she turned and walked away, transforming down and zooming out of the base.

Ratchet ex-vented, and Optimus dismissed the rest of the team for the night.

* * *

* * *

Starscream grumbled something that couldn't even be considered real words, flexing his wings.

His journey to the top of the autobots' silo had helped a great more than he'd really care to admit. He was still experiencing sky-call- and he knew he would be until he actually got the chance to fly- but it had backed off a great degree and for that he was grateful. 

The Prime's offer still resonated within his helm, though, and that irked the seeker to no end. Why should he leave one side in this war only to join up with another? What benefit would that grant him?

He deflated a bit at the memory of being on his own, though, and how well that had worked out for him before. Even if the autobots did eventually let him go, finding enough energon for himself would be a chore. True, he was no longer injured to the same degree he had been the last time around, but whatever mines Megatron didn't have his greasy servos in were undoubtedly under autobot control, leaving Starscream only scraps scattered around the globe.

The lack of companionship being a neutral would provide didn't bother Starscream much, unlike it would to some mecha he knew. But a piece of him wondered if the autobots would even let him go free, and how long it would be before then even if it were true. Being their prisoner wasn't truly terrible, all things considered. Aside from the cramped quarters and the blow it dealt to the seeker's pride to say he wasn't a free being, he was actually quite well off. Energon was provided for him, and he was out of the elements. For the most part, he was left alone, aside from the incident with Smokescreen, which was more than he could say for the way the decepticons treated their prisoners.

He grumbled again.

What choice did those thoughts leave him with?

He laid his helm against the wall, eying the unoccupied berth that he avoided more out of habit than anything now. Since his frame was mostly recovered and the sky-call wasn't pressing in on his processor as heavily, the hard floor in his corner was beginning to become an annoyance. But could he bring himself to claim the berth, changing his pattern for the first time in over two orn?

He'd begun to think of the corner as his safe haven, which was slightly ridiculous in and of itself. One spot in the tiny room would provided no more safety than any other, but the logic didn't really change how he felt. Besides, he knew that blasted medic kept an optic on his movements through that camera mounted in the corner, and he wouldn't be too surprised if the medic was reporting all of the seeker's movements to the Pr-- Optimus.

Not that Starscream cared what they thought, so why was he even thinking about this?! He growled, knowing that being locked up was slowly driving him mad.

All he had to do was stand up and walk a few paces to the berth- it really wasn't that hard.

Before he could really talk himself into moving, though, the door to his cell slid open. Optimus stepped in, and Starscream fixed his red optic on the mech in a bored manner, none of his inner turmoil showing through.

“Starscream,” Optimus said in greeting, taking his usual spot on the empty berth. For some reason, the motion brought a degree of irritation to Starscream, and he suddenly wished he'd moved after all.

He inclined his helm in greeting, but otherwise remained silent.

“Have you given any thought to my offer?” Optimus asked, cutting straight to the chase.

Starscream said nothing, internally debating on lapsing back into his self-imposed silence altogether. He couldn't give the autobot leader an answer because he didn't have one. How was he supposed to make such a monumental decision so quickly? And what kind of mech would pressure such a fast decision? That seemed like something Megatron would do...

No, Starscream realized. Megatron wouldn't give him a choice at all.

“I will take your silence as a negative, then,” Optimus said, interrupting the seeker's train of thought and making him glance up.

The Prime stood and made to move back towards the door, and something deep within Starscream seized up.

“Prime, wait,” Starscream said quietly, suddenly knowing that he had an answer after all. When the broader mech turned and affixed his blue gaze back on the seeker, Starscream pushed himself to his pedes. “I have thought it over.”

Optimus inclined his head to acknowledge the words, and raised an optic ridge when he realized Starscream was hesitating.

The motion served as a silent prompting to continue on, so Starscream vented deeply. There was no point in delaying the inevitable for something as insignificant as a sudden bout of nerves. “I accept your terms, Optimus Prime,” he said formally, relaxing his plating. “And I pledge myself to the autobot cause.”

Surprise filtered into Optimus' field, but it was quickly replaced with acceptance and a hint of relief. “You are sure about this?” he asked, and Starscream couldn't tell if the question was out of concern or something else entirely.

“I am,” Starscream replied, dipping his helm.

A smile graced the autobot's faceplates, and he nodded back. “Then the autobot cause welcomes you aboard, Starscream,” he replied, gesturing for the seeker to follow him.

Starscream obeyed, and he was suddenly glad to be able to walk out of his cell without shackles for the first time, and hopefully would never have to enter it again.

When they stepped into the main room, it took Starscream a moment to realize that all of the autobots, minus Arcee, were assembled and obviously waiting for something- _him,_ perhaps- since Optimus' height and broad shoulderplating blocked his view. When his processor caught up with the fact that he had five sets of blue optics trained on his form, his wings went stiff and he jerked his field in closer to him.

None of the autobots really reacted to his appearance, though they all wore varying expressions on their faceplates and in their fields.

A medical berth awaited the seeker, angled steeply to give him something to _lean_ on rather than _lay_ on, and Ratchet stood next to it. Starscream had to swallow a sense of foreboding as Optimus gestured for him to take the berth, and he stiffly complied.

He nervously eyed Ratchet when the medic transformed one of his servos into his welder, angling the flame until it was a narrow point. Starscream didn't say anything, though, steeling his resolve. He'd chosen this, and he would see it through.

Something in Ratchet's optics flickered, and Starscream vaguely wondered if the medic could tell what his thought processes consisted of. But the medic said nothing, and his blue optics dropped from the seeker's red one to the decepticon insignia on his chestplates. Then the thin flame of his welder drew closer.

Three breems later, Starscream was allowed to step off the berth, his new, less angular insignia still glowing with heat.

“Welcome to Team Prime, Starscream,” Optimus said with a small smile.


	11. Discoveries, Good and Bad

Starscream stared up at the ceiling of his new berthroom, tracing the patterns in it with his optics rather boredly. The long digits of his left servo absently stroked his new insignia, enthralled with the new and unfamiliar angles. He had to admit that the berth- _his_ berth- was a far cry from the cell floor he'd occupied for over a human month, but he'd recharged as much as he could and was sick of lying there.

His internal chronometer read that it was just after five in the morning, and he dismissed the notification. He vented and stood up, deciding he didn't care if it was too early to be out and about- he'd been still for two orn, and he wasn't about to keep up that pattern when he didn't have to.

Thankfully, the main room was mostly empty. Only Ratchet was online and occupying the room, but that fact didn't really surprise Starscream. He took only a few steps into the room, a sudden feeling of something resembling helplessness overcoming him when he realized he had no real purpose in the room. He was tempted to turn right back around and retreat to his berthroom, but a voice speaking stopped him.

“Good cycle, Starscream,” Ratchet said easily, as though having an ex-con less than a dozen paces away didn't bother him. “Did you recharge well?”

“Um, yes,” the seeker answered, taken aback. To say he hadn't been expecting a degree of pleasantness was an understatement. He attempted to keep the mood light and asked, “Is everybot else still in recharge?”

Ratchet hummed, not moving his optics from where they were glued to the holoscreens. “Arcee took the early patrol, and Optimus is in a meeting with our human liaison, Agent Fowler. I believe you've met him before.”

Starscream winced, recalling the dark-skinned human that he'd captured and tortured once before. He'd forgotten about that man- between Megatron's beatings and the seeker's time in his cell, it was hard to keep track of anything else. He wasn't looking forward to meeting the man again, though. It seemed the universe was really out to get him lately. Now that he was an autobot, it was inevitable that he'd meet the human side of Team Prime, and he didn't bother to hide his distaste of the idea.

The thought still sat strangely with him, and he idly reached up to stroke his new emblem once more as he wondered if he would ever get used to the idea.

 _Autobot_ Starscream.

His train of thought derailed as Ratchet reclaimed his attention once more.

“I need to run a full diagnostic of you, Starscream. Optimus wants you cleared for light duty as soon as you're able. Having optics in the sky is an advantage we've been lacking for too long, now.”

The seeker nodded, the prospect of being able to fly again soon lifting his mood in a way little else could. His wings perking up paid testament to that fact, and he only realized that had happened when a hint of amusement entered Ratchet's field. Embarrassment flooded Starscream's in return, and he pulled it in just enough that he couldn't sense the medic's, and in turn, Ratchet couldn't feel his. Ratchet didn't comment on that, though, instead turning to face the seeker and continuing on.

“I'll also need to outfit you with a transmitter that will serve a number of purposes.”

The medic didn't expand, and Starscream was finding his stare a little unnerving. So he prompted, “Such as...?”

Ratchet dropped his optics to the workbench next to his terminal. It was completely littered with various gadgets and spare parts, almost to the point where the seeker wondered how he could find anything on it. Ratchet plucked a small box off of it that was barely as wide as one of his digits. Only then did he turn back and answer.

“It will hide your signature from the decepticons, and block all communications channels that aren't specifically to one of us or our base. I'll have a way to monitor your vitals at all times, like I do with the other autobots, and it serves as a tracker so that we- that is, Optimus and I- will know your exact location at all times.” Ratchet fell silent, turning the device over in his servos. Starscream could tell that there was more to it, though, and was proven right when the medic added, “But most importantly, it can put you into an immediate medical stasis if we have reason to believe you are betraying us. It won't outright offline you, but you will be at the mercy of whoever is around you and have to deal with Optimus' wrath when we retrieve you.”

Starscream raised an optic ridge. “I hardly believe all of that is necessary!” he protested indignantly, plates flaring slightly in aggravation.

Ratchet, for his part, didn't seem too surprised at the outburst. He calmly set the device back down and met Starscream's good optic. “Isn't it? Optimus has seen fit to allow you full access to our base and tech, and I will be repairing you to the best of my ability. You admitted to terminating Cliffjumper, and have tortured Agent Fowler in the past. Optimus may be allowing you to redeem yourself now, but this is just insurance, as the humans would call it.” He paused and vented, letting his shoulders fall. Starscream was taken aback slightly when the motion suddenly made Ratchet look older and more worn down. “You may bear our insignia now, but it will take more than that to earn our trust. Until that time, this device is the only way we can let you out of the base.”

The seeker deflated a little at the thought of being cooped up indefinitely. He begrudgingly agreed that the medic's concerns were justified, the thoughts of his past actions bringing his mood down. Primus knew that if their situation were reversed, Starscream would be equally leery and quite possibly using even harsher means to earn cooperation. He vented and said, “Very well.”

Ratchet shuddered his optics briefly, obviously not having expected their newest member to give in so easily. “...That's it?” he asked, voice unsure.

Starscream chuckled humorously. “You forget, Ratchet, that I am a mech of science as well. Who am I to deny a logical argument, even if it's purposes aren't ideal for my own sake?” Steeling himself, he glanced at the medical berth- the same berth from yestercycle, though it was now level once more- and took a seat on it. The motion put him at optic-level with the medic, whom he raised an expectant eyebrow ridge at.

There was something in the medic's optics that the seeker couldn't quite place, but it was gone a moment later as Ratchet's professional mask slid seamlessly back into place. “Right, well. Let's get this over with,” he said, grabbing a scanner off of the over-laden table.

Thankfully, the tests that Starscream was subjected to were all rather standard, and nothing he hadn't dealt with before. Ratchet was much more thorough than Knockout, but that fact didn't really surprise Starscream. He knew Knockout wasn't actually a medic, but of all the mecha aboard the Nemesis, he was the most qualified. When Ratchet asked for a copy of his medical records, Starscream sent the compressed file over a private comm. link, hesitating only slightly before pinging the medic.

The files contained nothing of the blunt trauma to his spark, but he put no voice to the thought. Ratchet's optics were dim for a moment as he scanned over the files. When he said nothing of the subject, Starscream breathed a silent sigh of relief.

“That should take care of most of it,” Ratchet said, taking a step back and glancing at the small holoscreen on the inside of his wrist. “I'll simply need to switch your nullifier for this device and have you demonstrate a transformation for me, and then we can move on to your repairs.”

Starscream nodded, unable to keep the apprehension from his field and drawing it closer to hide the fact. It wasn't that he didn't trust Ratchet, it was just... Well, he didn't trust Ratchet. Not consciously, at least. And the thought of opening even his outer chestplates for any reason made him nervous. The medic seemed to notice, anyways, and kept his movements slow.

After a moment of hesitation, Starscream complied with Ratchet's wishes. Ratchet made short work of switching out the nullifier and new device. He managed the task in such a way that the seeker could tell any discomfort was unintentional. Whether that was due to Ratchet's medical coding or something else entirely, Starscream couldn't tell, but he was silently grateful either way.

His HUD flashed a notification as his t-cog came back online, whirring quietly within its cavity and prepping for use for the first time in a long while. Once Ratchet had stepped back again, Starscream snapped his chestplates shut and stood up. His wings bounced slightly with the realization that he was that much closer to being able to fly again. His sky-call flared up a bit with the thought as well.

He met Ratchet's optics briefly, and the medic gestured to the seeker, silently asking for a display of his transformation abilities. Starscream preened slightly at the thought. The medic wanted a show? Then the ex-con would most certainly oblige.

With a quick check to make sure the necessary programs were functioning, he initiated the transformation sequence.

As his plates slid apart, his world dissolved into processor-numbing pain.

* * *

* * *

Throughout the entire medical exam, Ratchet hesitated in bringing up anything to do with the seeker's spark. The matter wasn't that he lacked the interest, but rather he didn't know how to broach the subject without Starscream freezing up or refusing to answer. So far, the jet had been cooperative, but Primus only knew how long that would last.

Ratchet took a few steps back to allow Starscream room to transform, and observed as a hint of the seeker's old arrogance came back to the surface. Before he got even halfway through the sequence, though, he was reverting back to bipedal mode, a pained screech leaving his vocalizer as he scratched at his chestplates and collapsed to the ground.

Startled, Ratchet was immediately kneeling at his side, sweeping him in a scan. “Starscream? Can you hear me?”

The seeker groaned, his good optic meeting Ratchet's for a nano-klik before it was shuttered in pain again. His claws sunk deeper into his chestplating, leaving obvious marks in the paint. Ratchet had to pull his field back slightly, the pain and fear in Starscream's becoming too overwhelming for him to think straight.

“I need to get you on your back,” Ratchet said, looking at how Starscream was curled in on himself. He gave no response, though, and the medic took the chance to carefully maneuver him around. Once the jet's spinal struts were in contact with the concrete, his servos fell to his sides, and both sets of his chestplates slid open.

Ratchet could do like more than stare in a shocked silence for a nano-klik, hardly believing that Starscream trusted him... He waved aside the thought as quickly as it came. Starscream was in pain- that was the only reason that he would open up like that.

Regardless of the reasoning, Ratchet leaned in slightly to get a better look at the problem, and was greeted by the sight of Starscream's spark fluctuating wildly. The scarred surface sent a pang through Ratchet's spark, but he pushed the feeling aside. There were no traces of leaking energon or twisted cables, though, so Ratchet turned his attention to Starscream's covered abdomen, scanning it for specific variables. His scanner beeped quietly, reading that the seeker's t-cog was temporarily offline once more, this time due to strain and a lack of energy. Ratchet guessed that its lack of use had triggered a subroutine failure, and since it hadn't gotten enough energy to complete the transformation it had shut itself down.

Starscream slowly settled as the medic puzzled over the cause of his collapse, and his red optic fixed on Ratchet once more. The fear in his field was exchanged with embarrassment, and he slowly sat up, waving away Ratchet's attempts to help and closing his chestplates. “What was that?” he rasped quietly, static lacing his voice.

“I believe that your t-cog was unprepared for use and shut down,” Ratchet replied, equally as soft and gesturing for the seeker to close his chestplates again. “You were in pain. Your spark...?”

Starscream laid a servo over his chestplates, tracing the self-imposed scratches self-consciously. He nodded, confusion flickering across his faceplates.

“Did it feel like when...” _When you were forced into sparkmerging?_

The seeker shook his head quickly. “Not quite,” he replied, but Ratchet saw his grip tighten on his chestplates at the thought.

“Must have been fluctuating energy outputs that caused the pain, then,” Ratchet mused, pushing himself back to his pedes and offering Starscream a servo absently. The surprise in the seeker's field drew the medic's attention to what he'd done, and he internally groaned. He wasn't about to retract the offer, though, and surprisingly, Starscream took his servo for the aid to get back to his own pedes.

At that moment, Optimus drove into the silo and transformed up, raising an optic ridge when Starscream jerked his servo out of Ratchet's and turned away, pulling his field in closer to himself. Ratchet's attention was drawn from his Prime to Starscream at the motion, and his servo hung awkwardly in the air for a nano-klik before he let it fall back to his side.

The seeker muttered something that could have been a quiet, “Thank you,” before retreating back down the hallway to his berthroom. Ratchet only watched him go, a painful lurch emanating from within his sparkchamber startling him and causing him to jerk a servo up to it. Then Starscream was gone, but Optimus claimed the medic's attention by laying a servo on his shoulderplating.

“Ratchet?” he asked quietly, a strong undertone of concern.

“I'm... fine,” he said hesitantly as the feeling vanished, optics rising to meet Optimus'. First the strange sensation earlier, and now this? Ratchet hoped it wasn't what he thought it was. “It's nothing.”

“That looked to be more than 'nothing' to me,” the taller mech replied, voice rumbling.

Ratchet ex-vented heavily, shoulders slumping. He wished he could lie to Optimus, but his conscious wouldn't allow that, to say nothing of the prodding the Prime would do until he got the answers he wanted. “I think... I'm getting spark-call,” the medic said quietly.

“Truly?” Optimus asked, field suddenly pulsating with curiosity.

Ratchet pulled away from it with a grumble, walking back over to the holo-screens. “I told you it was nothing.” The sounds of heavy pedesteps told him that Optimus had followed, though.

“Bonds are not 'nothing,' Ratchet,” he reprimanded lightly. “They are important, especially within the confines of war. You should tell him.”

“Is that an order?” Ratchet couldn't help but ask, shooting a glance at Optimus over his shoulder.

“Merely a friendly suggestion,” Optimus retorted easily. “You will do Starscream some good. And I believe he is what you need, as well.”

Ratchet's engine coughed at the unexpected comment, and he snorted at the implication behind Optimus' words. He said nothing, though, even when the autobot leader exited the room, leaving Ratchet alone with his thoughts.


	12. Acceptances and Denials

Starscream had always thought he'd dislike humans if he'd had the misfortune of being exposed to one for a prolonged period of time. He was wrong.

He _detested_ humans.

Agent Fowler- whom he'd been “reintroduced” to the day after his whole transformation fiasco- had been alright. The man had had little to say to the seeker- obviously remembering the time Starscream had captured and tortured him. At least, Starscream assumed he did. Neither had brought up the incident during their brief meeting, and Fowler hadn't seemed overly hostile in the few words he did say.

But the human children were an entirely different story.

Starscream had managed to evade them for the most part, but his luck ran out two days after meeting with Team Prime's human liaison. The one they called Miko had been asking him questions nonstop since Bulkhead had brought her to base- _three hours ago!_ The dark-haired one, Jack, had been giving him what humans would call the “stink eye,” an obvious distrust in his organic optics as he watched Starscream closely. The shortest one, Rafael, on the other servo, had been pointedly avoiding Starscream at all costs.

The old Starscream might have appreciated that a bit more, calling it rank-appropriate fear and preening a bit, but the new Starscream didn't like it at all.

He grit his denta as Miko fired off a fresh round of questions- something about flying and flight frames- but he ignored her in favor of typing onto the holoscreens. He'd offered to make a complete list of the decepticon energon mines, since he had no other use as an autobot yet, and Optimus had seemed surprised by the offer. He'd taken Starscream up on it, nonetheless, so now the seeker been standing in front of the holoscreens for a little over a joor, or four earth hours, inputting the coordinates he could recall, and tuning out Miko's babbling for the better part of the time.

Ratchet was somewhere behind him, fiddling with his tools and “keeping an optic” on Starscream. The seeker could feel the medic's optics on him for what was the fifth time in ten minutes, and he flicked one wing dismissively. Ratchet's intake hitched.

Starscream's comm. pinged, and he lifted an optic ridge when he saw Ratchet's tag.

::I am standing in the same room, you know,:: he answered wryly.

::Starscream, as one mech of science to another, I need to tell you something,:: Ratchet said in a tone that immediately had Starscream on edge. The seeker cast a curious glance over his shoulder, but the medic stubbornly refused to lift his optics from his tools.

Miko noticed how Starscream had ceased in his typing and started to ask why, but her questions fell on deaf audials as Starscream blankly stared at the holoscreens and listened to Ratchet's next words.

::During your medical exam, and with evidence from the past few cycles, it has come to my attention that...:: The link became staticky as Ratchet vented, a sound that Starscream found strange. ::I have gotten spark-call for you.::

Starscream froze, good optic widening. His spark pulsed wildly for a nano-klik after the confession, and he couldn't seem to find the words for an answer.

When he examined his own evidence- namely, the way Ratchet had been acting around him the past few days- the pieces lined up. Spark-call could easily explain the hesitant actions and side-long glances.

Then he briefly wondered why he hadn't felt anything in return. It was rare that one wouldn't reciprocate spark-call, but it had happened before. Another idea presented itself to him, but his processor shut down the train of thought before he could vividly recall any of his... _abuse_... but it gave way to a possibility that made his energon run cold.

_Could his damaged spark even hold a bond?_

Terror flooded his field, and he pulled it only slightly, too caught up in his mind to fully register it. ::Excuse me,:: he muttered before dropping the link, abandoning the holoscreens and fleeing towards the elevator.

He only barely registered Bumblebee and Bulkhead entering the room, and then the doors were shutting to give him a semblance of privacy so that he could panic in peace.

* * *

* * *

Ratchet's inner voice screamed at him to simply stop speaking, even though it had already been almost three days. He pressed on, though, saying, ::I have gotten spark-call for you.::

Starscream went stock-still, digits hovering over the keyboards. Even his wings were completely motionless. For all the world it appeared as though Starscream was a statue. Then an overpowering sense of terror filled the seeker's field, and Ratchet pulled away from it with a look of concern. Starscream didn't look at him, though, sending a quick, ::Excuse me,:: before dropping the link and fleeing.

Ratchet watched him go, spark falling. Starscream nearly ran into Bumblebee, who walked in with Bulkhead at that moment, before sidestepping and disappearing into the depths of the elevator. Grumbling incoherently, the medic stepped up to the terminal, closing out of the map that the seeker had been working on and watching his signature travel to the top of the silo. He didn't move from there, though, so Ratchet turned his optics to the other screens blindly.

“What was that about?” Bulkhead asked, and Ratchet only shook his helm as the proximity alarm sounded.

The human-sized elevator deposited Agent Fowler a moment later, who walked in with, “Why is the ex-con moping on the roof?” and a thumb pointing over his shoulder as a greeting.

Ratchet didn't bother to turn around, tuning out the conversation that ensued. He cursed Optimus inside his head, knowing it wasn't the Prime's fault but needing to blame something. He wallowed in his thoughts for a few moments, aware that Optimus entered the room, obviously drawn in by the proximity alarm, but offered no greeting to the mech.

“Ratchet's crying,” Jack said softly. The sound of his designation drew Ratchet out of his wallowing thoughts, and he lightly touched a digit to his faceplates. From the volume at which the human had been speaking, it was obvious he'd only been intending to address the other children, but the enhanced Cybertronian hearing of each autobot picked up on it anyways.

The digit came away stained with coolant, and embarrassment flooded Ratchet's field before he pulled it in tightly. He muttered something in Cybertronian and stalked out, plates flared slightly in anger at the optics and eyes that followed his progress out of the room. A comm. from Optimus went unanswered, and then he locked himself in his berthroom.

* * *

* * *

Optimus watched his medic and lifelong friend stomp away with his field hidden and his cooling fans on.

It wasn't hard to piece together what had occurred, having heard Fowler's comment about Starscream on the roof. When his comm. went unanswered, his optics flicked between the hallway Ratchet had disappeared down and the freight elevator that would lead to the roof.

Fowler began to say something about patterns in the 'con attacks and some of his superiors' concerns, and Optimus onlined a backup processor to file away the information. Bulkhead and Bumblebee started a racing tournament on the video game system with the children, and when Fowler's monologue devolved into less pertinent information, the Prime invited him invited the man to accompany him to the roof.

They rode in the freight elevator together, Optimus kindly inquiring to Fowler's health. Every time the man showed up at base, he looked more haggard, to the point when Optimus wondered if the man was getting enough recharge.

Fowler sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I've been better, Prime, but don't worry about me. You've got your hands full with your team already, not to mention your... newest recruit.” He broke off as the elevator came to a stop, revealing Starscream curled up on the edge of the plateau, wings drooped.

Optimus' optics landed on the jet, and he could see Fowler putting the pieces together. The man started moving to his 'copter, saying, “I'd better get back. I'll keep you updated, Prime.”

Optimus inclined his helm, replying with, “Good day, Agent Fowler.”

As the helicopter powered up, Optimus slowly approached Starscream, who gave no sign that he was even registering another bot's presence. Fowler lifted off, offering Optimus a salute and then flying off. The Prime gingerly took a seat next to Starscream, letting his legs dangle off the side of the canyon. He sat in silence for a few moments before he spoke.

“What happened, Starscream?”

The ex-con was silent, good optic gazing out dully over the deserts of Nevada. He stirred only slightly, optic brightening as he spoke quietly, muttering, “Nobot wants damaged goods.”

Optimus shuttered his optic in surprise. “Starscream, is that really what you think of yourself?”

The seeker shrugged dejectedly, but his answer was written plainly all over his faceplates. Optimus vented deeply, hiding the pity and horror from his field. Instead, he filled it with comfort and tentatively sent it outwards to mingle with Starscream's. He was saddened when the seeker didn't bother to pull away, letting his numb pain be felt by the Prime freely.

Megatron was no longer physically present in Starscream's life, and he was still capable of breaking the seeker down.

“You are worth much more than that,” Optimus said gently, staring at the newest autobot with a look of concern. “You are more than just a burden.”

The seeker's optic flashed at that, dead one flickering a little as well as a bit of life seeped into his frame at the challenge. His plates flared up slightly as he turned to face Optimus. “How can I be anything but a burden?! The decepticon have no use for me, and I have no purpose here! I can't even fly anymore!”

His reaction startled the Prime, but Optimus outwardly showed no signs of his surprise. If arguing was what it took to get Starscream back to his old self, then arguing it would be.

“Once you have your transformations back under control, you can provide us with air support. You know better than most what an advantage that can be,” Optimus reasoned.

Starscream vented, wings twitching. A hint of longing edged into his field which was still firmly meshed with Optimus'. He pulled it in only slightly, leading the Prime to believe that he was at war with himself on whether he wanted- or deserved- the comfort and purpose the larger mech was offering.

The seeker absently traced a long digit over the seam in his chestplates, whispering, “It hurts.” He seemed to realize what he'd said, and continued in a louder voice. “But what if I can't ever transform again? What use will I be, then? A Cybertronian who can't achieve transformation- I'd be a laughingstock!”

“You fear your spark is too damaged to power your transformations,” Optimus surmised. “Speak with Ratchet. His expertise may not be in sparks, but he may be able to ease some of your concerns.”

Starscream stilled at the suggestion, panic replacing any hint of the more positive emotions in his field. “I... can't.”

“Ratchet will not harm you, Starscream.” There was an unspoken promise in the Prime's voice. “He is not Megatron.”

Starscream flinched and looked away, letting Optimus know that he'd unknowingly stumbled across the root of the problem. The jet pulled his field in further, dampening his emotions, and Optimus took that as a sign that the conversation was over. Respectfully, the Prime disentangled his field from the seeker's and climbed back to his pedes.

“Ratchet's intentions are not hostile, Starscream. Just think it over.”

With that, Optimus returned back inside the base, leaving Starscream alone with his thoughts and the cool evening air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love guru Optimus, anyone?


	13. A Step in the Right Direction

Starscream gritted his denta, flexing his wings as he requested a start-up to his transformation sequence once again.

He was alone in his berthroom, and it had been almost an earth week since Ratchet's unexpected confession. After he'd hauled himself down from the roof, the seeker had begun working on his transformations. So far, he'd only managed to turn his servos into standard blasters, though, the process too painful to replicate for the entirety of his frame.

He was sick of being useless, and confined to a base with a mech he was avidly avoiding was beginning to grind his gears. He was determined to get the process down and escape the base for a few joors. His t-cog finished its configuration, and his frame began to fold on itself. It hurt, but his attempts earlier that morning helped dull the sensation down to a sharp ache rather than blatant agony. As the process continued, the ache built up, but he forced himself to push through. The next thing he knew, he was resting on the floor of his berthroom on the belly of his jet form.

The blooming feeling of success warmed his frame, and a delighted cackle bubbled out of him. Reversing the process left him standing in bipedal mode once more, and he quickly made his way to the main room, cooling fans whirling lightly to combat the flush of his success.

In his rush, he momentarily forgot that Ratchet would undoubtedly be there. The sight of the orange and white mech standing before the terminal made Starscream hesitate, but then he straightened his shoulders and marched straight past the medic, similarly ignoring the children, who were playing video games on their catwalk. His focus was solely on Optimus, who was standing near the ground bridge and holding a conversation with both Bulkhead and Smokescreen. The Prime looked up in time to see Starscream's entrance, though, and when the edges of their fields met, his read slight confusion in response to Starscream's avid joy.

Before the tall mech could ask, Starscream came to a stop in front of him and said, “I can transform again.”

Bulkhead remained impassive at the news, regarding Starscream quietly, and Smokescreen scowled slightly. The barest edge of the hotshot's field touched Starscream's, and the seeker pulled away from it entirely when it darkened with something along the lines of displeasure. Optimus, on the other servo, smiled at the revelation and inclined his helm to Starscream.

“Hep, ep, ep!” Ratchet said from behind them, gaining three sets of optics aimed towards his frame. “As your medic, I need to see a demonstration before I can clear you for any sort of field duty.”

Starscream briefly met Ratchet's blue optics, searching for any sign of malice or anger. When he found none, he nodded. Taking a few steps back to allow himself the space, he activated the sequence again, ignoring the curious eyes and optics on him. The process wasn't quite as painful the second time around, but he still took it slow to be safe. When he'd attained vehicle mode, he gave himself a moment to recuperate before transforming back up.

There was something Starscream couldn't quite place in Ratchet's optics, but the medic inclined his helm and sent a look to Optimus that couldn't be read by anyone who didn't know the two rather well, returning to his terminal.

“Very well,” Optimus said, optics brightening minutely. “Starscream, you are to accompany Bulkhead and Smokescreen on recon.”

“What?! Optimus!” Smokescreen protested, doorwings flaring.

The Prime held up a servo, silence the rookie immediately. “Starscream is a part of our team now. We must learn to work together. All of us.” The last part was aimed more at the doorwinger, who had the grace to look ashamed of himself and lifted his plates slightly in surrender.

Optimus nodded to Ratchet, who fired up the ground bridge. Smokescreen went through first, and Bulkhead shot Starscream a look that clearly said he would follow the seeker through.

Starscream couldn't resist one last glance over his shoulder at Ratchet, surprised to find the medic already watching him with an unreadable look on his faceplates. They maintained optic contact for a moment, and then Starscream turned and walked through the bridge, not in the mood to have Bulkhead bot-handle him again. He still remembered the experience from the last time, and it wasn't something he was eager to repeat.

Emerging from the other side of the ground bridge revealed a wooded, mountainous landscape, devoid of any sentient life save the three mechs who had just set pede there. Smokescreen was waiting with a scowl on his faceplates, though he looked away when Starscream met his optics. Bulkhead came lumbering through a moment later, and his gaze didn't shy away from the seeker's.

The bridge closed, leaving the bird song and the light breeze to form a melodious harmony around them and fill their surroundings. Before anyone could say anything, though, a distinctly-feminine voice asked, “So, where are we headed?”

The three mechs shuttered their optics in surprise, and Bulkhead glanced down to see Miko, who'd followed them through.

“Miko?!”

A comm. filtered through Bulkhead's speakers as he received it, obviously meant to be for all of their audials if he aired it as he did. “Bulkhead, Miko's not here. She may have followed you through.”

“Yeah, we've got optics on her, Ratchet. Send another bridge,” Bulkhead replied.

“Aww! C'mon, Bulkhead! Optimus said it was only recon,” the human whined, staring at her guardian with a pitiful expression.

The green mech studied her for a moment, and then placed a digit to his earpiece. “Never mind, Ratchet. It's just recon.”

Starscream ignored Ratchet's next words in favor of watching Miko, who did a small celebratory dance. She stiffened, though, when she realized she had an audience. She defiantly stared Starscream down, who had to admit that she had pretty big ball bearings for a human.

“Right,” Bulkhead said with a slight air of command. “There's a human gravel mine up ahead that we'll want to avoid. It's small and apparently doesn't have much activity, but we can never be too sure.”

“Yeah, yeah. Optimus explained all this already. Can't we just go?” Smokescreen asked impatiently. Without waiting for an answer, he transformed down and took off, spewing a cloud of dust over the other three.

Miko coughed, waving a hand to clear the air, and Bulkhead vented before he glanced at Starscream. “We need you in the air, but don't go more than a klik away from us in any direction, got it? And keep your comm. link open!” With that, he shrunk down into his vehicle mode as well, opening a door for Miko and taking off after Smokescreen.

“Starscream, do this. Starscream, do that,” the seeker mocked quietly in a high-pitched voice, grumbling before he transformed for the third time that morning. His spark throbbed for a moment, forcing him to sit in jet mode while he waited for the flare to settle down.

When the pain passed, he powered up his thrusters and took to the skies for the first time in what felt like an eternity. He savored the wind wrapping around his frame, getting a sinking feeling he'd pushed it too far too quickly and wouldn't be achieving vehicle mode again anytime soon.

He quickly caught up with the grounders and reigned his speed back in. As much as he wanted to push himself to the limit and never come back down, the logical part of his processors pressed that that wouldn't be the best option in the long run. So he set a slow cruising pace and swept his scanners out far and wide, getting a pang if nostalgia when it reminded him of his time as an energon seeker on Cybertron.

Primus, he missed Skywarp and Thundercracker.

They didn't have long to travel before Starscream's scanners picked up on something, pinging his HUD.

::Bulkhead, I'm picking up on an energon signal. Seems like it's coming from that human mine.:: -Starscream

::The humans found energon? Why didn't Fowler alert us?:: -Smokescreen

::I'm not sure, but it can't mean anything good. Starscream, fly ahead?:: -Bulkhead

Slightly surprised at having been asked instead of ordered, the seeker acknowledged the request and banked steeply to the left. There was some intelligence in that green helm after all, Starscream reflected. Maybe Bulkhead wasn't all brawn and no brains. Underneath him, both grounders took a hard left into the trees, the journey to the mine a bit lengthier for them since it wasn't a straight-shot.

It barely took Starscream a minute to get there, and the radio silence from base- where his moves were undoubtedly being monitored- confirmed his suspicions that Bulkhead was communicating on a private channel to base on his team's behalf.

A preliminary scan as he approached revealed nothing out of the ordinary, and the sight of raw energon crystals greeted him, glinting in the sun. They were stacked haphazardly in and around a dump truck and a frontloader. There were no signs of life anywhere.

He swooped low to transform, lower than he'd usually go for the sake of keeping his transformation slow. When the last plate slid into place, his HUD alerted him to the fact that his T-Cog offlined, too strained to stay functioning for the moment. To add to the bad news, the instant Starscream's pedes came into contact with the ground, his comm. link went dead.

Confused, Starscream tried to send a signal to Bulkhead, and then to base. Neither one went through. With a sinking feeling in his spark, he found that his internal maps system was frozen and not even a distress call could go out. Clenching a fist nervously, he turned on a heelstrut to look at the dirt road leading into the mine.

Muted black and purple color schemes that had been hidden from the air could now be seen as the perpetrators slowly revealed themselves from behind boulders or out of large bushes.

Dust clouds alerted him to the approach of his teammates, but there was little to do he could stop them without blasting towards them in jet form. The seeker had to settle for running towards them, yelling, “Wait! It's a trap!”

It was too little too late, though, even when his words registered and they laid on their brakes. They barreled through the entrance of the mine, and the 'cons on the surrounding ridges pushed several large boulders into the road, effectively cutting off any immediate escape.

Bulkhead and Smokescreen came to a stop next to Starscream and transformed up, corralling Miko between the three of them wordlessly.

“A little heads-up would've been nice,” Smokescreen muttered snarkily as they were surrounded by twenty eradicons.

“They've got a jammer, what was I supposed to do?” Starscream snapped back, eying his former teammates.

“Not the best time for this, guys!” Miko piped up.

One of the 'cons transformed a servo to a blaster, the rest following suit. Bulkhead gained his wrecking balls and said, “Miko, run!”

The three autobots charged their enemies, running in separate directions to draw the fire away from the vulnerable human and giving her a chance to escape. Starscream quickly lost track of his teammates' movements, focused on his own fighting. Belatedly, the question of whether their own signals were even registering back at base with the jammer operating crossed his processor before he shoved it back down.

The seeker used his knowledge of the eradicons' weaknesses to his advantage, dispatching them quickly with a harsh jab through a lightly-armored abdomen here, or pulling the right group of wires there. While he dealt quicker deaths to his former underlings than Bulkhead or Smokescreen did, he showed no mercy, and none that crossed his path escaped with their lives.

His T-cog whirred pathetically when he asked it to form his blasters. With a growl, he took his frustrations out on another eradicon, slashing at chestplates and coming away with energon-stained digits.

He made short work of the last 'con charging him and straightened up, using his moment of respite to survey the flurry of activity around him.

Bulkhead and Smokescreen were still engaged in combat, facing a higher number of challengers and not having quite the advantage that Starscream did, even with their weapons.

Then his optic was drawn to Miko, who was attempting to flee the scene but closely pursued by two eradicons. He vented, knowing full well he was the only one of the three who would be able to get to her in time.

Miko stopped short of a stony wall, trapped within the confines of the mine. She spun around and stared up at her pursuers with wide eyes. One aimed a blaster- which was easily the same size as the human- straight in her face.

Starscream slammed into the eradicon right as it fired, sending the blast into the tall offshoots of rock instead of obliterating the human. He snatched Miko up, mindful of his claws, and kicked the second eradicon back.

Now faced with two enemies and only one free servo, Starscream's optic narrowed.

One of them roared and charged, while the other began to fire a blaster in their direction. Starscream evaded a majority of the shots, wincing when one singed his wing and threw him off-balance for a moment. He recovered quickly, jabbing at the first eradicon's throat. The purple enemy doubled over, and Starscream pushed the eradicon in front of him to act as a shield. The next wave of shots hit the decepticon, and the seeker then threw the cooling frame at the second eradicon.

“Miko!” Bulkhead shouted, finishing off his final enemy and catching sight of his charge in Starscream's servos.

“I'm okay, Bulk!” she replied as the green mech ran over to them.

Bulkhead met Starscream's optic, field oozing trepidation and hesitation. Starscream offered the small human over without hesitating, proud to note that the action quelled Bulkhead's fears. The wrecker took Miko from the seeker, and inclined his helm slightly in thanks. Starscream accepted what he could get, knowing that he was still a ways off from being completely trusted even if he didn't like the idea. Miko opened her mouth like she wanted to say something, but her eyes met Starscream's optic and she turned away, cheeks growing red.

“Guys, I found the signal jammer!” Smokescreen called out from where he'd been poking around in the pile of offline eradicon frames.

There was the sound of a blaster being fired, and then a twinge from inside Starscream's chestplates. A warning popped up on his HUD, but everything was going black too fast for him to properly read it.

The last thing he registered as his frame fell towards the ground was the sound of a ground-bridge opening a short distance away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After rereading this fic, I realize I never made a couple of things clear. I'll go back and edit them, but for efficiency's sake I'll also write a few things here--
> 
> Megatronus and Starscream were in the beginning stages of courtship near the beginning of the war. I'd left this vague because I didn't know if I'd want to include it, but I think I do now. Starscream considered the courtship terminated after the battle of Tyger Pax, after Megatron went insane.


	14. Gotta Love Them Kiddos

Starscream slowly onlined his optics, pausing when he realized something wasn't right. It took him a moment to figure out what it was, but then it hit him that his field of vision wasn't as narrow as it had been for the past three orn, and his HUD wasn't alerting him to seek medical attention. He shuttered his optics in surprise, suddenly understanding that the faulty one had been repaired.

He sat up slowly, looking around the deserted main room of the autobot base. His field encountered the edges of one other, so it came as no surprise to him when Ratchet rounded the stacks of human equipment and came into sight. Ratchet, on the other servo, obviously wasn't expecting to see the seeker online and staring back at him, if the way he jolted back and cursed was anything to go by. He also nearly dropped the tools he was carrying, the emergency lights of his vehicle mode flashing briefly before he brought them back under control. A hint of embarrassment entered his field.

“Starscream! I wasn't expecting to see you online,” the medic said, even though both mechs knew the statement was redundant.

“Clearly,” Starscream replied, lifting an optic ridge. The response made Ratchet's embarrassment grow, and he edged his field away.

“Yes, well...” He cleared his intakes. “Your repairs seem to have taken well.” Ratchet set the tools in his servos down on another table and gestured to Starscream's optics.

“I wasn't expecting any repairs, but I suppose I should thank you.” The seeker turned and let his pedes rest on the floor, leaning back on his servos as his vision swam slightly. His optics began the process of recalibrating to work as a pair once more.

Ratchet inclined his helm. “I never got the chance to work on your repairs after...” He trailed off awkwardly and then pressed on. “Since you were in a medical stasis anyways, I thought it best to get them done. You're lucky the damage to your optic was only a bit of loose wiring. Had it been anything more serious, I wouldn't have had the tools to fix it.”

“About my being in stasis...”

Ratchet vented, dropping his optics. His servos twitched slightly, and Starscream guessed that if he'd been holding anything, the medic would have been fidgeting with it. The jet's HUD alerted him to the fact that his calibrations had been completed, and he focused more intently on Ratchet, noting the way that the ambulance's plating had clamped down in embarrassment.

“When the three of you disappeared from all of our scanners yesterday, I may have panicked a bit. No transmissions of any kind could get through, and your locations were undetectable. It appeared as though you had all gone offline. In desperation, I tried activating your device, and Bulkhead reported that it kicked in when Smokescreen destroyed the jammer.”

“So it wasn't intentional?” Starscream asked. Ratchet met his optics once more.

“No. Not entirely,” the medic replied, an apology in his field as it mingled with the edges of Starscream's. “I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. Bulkhead gave a full report of what transpired in the mine, and Miko is rather enthralled with you now.”

Starscream groaned at the news, wings drooping.

That drew a laugh out of Ratchet, which made Starscream perk back up in surprise. He'd never heard the ambulance laugh before, and he found it a curiously pleasant sound.

“Not a big fan of Miko?” Ratchet asked rhetorically, a smile on his faceplates. He turned to reorganize the table full of tools, but to Starscream it just looked like he was creating a larger mess.

“More like humans in general,” Starscream muttered, standing up and testing out his balance.

“Then you'd best prepare yourself,” Ratchet advised. “School gets out in an hour.”

* * *

* * *

True to Ratchet's word, Jack, Miko, and Rafael were brought in just over an hour later.

Starscream was once again standing in front of the holoscreens, attempting to finish the map of mines from what he could recall. It wasn't so much that his memory was the problem, but rather the fact that any mine the autobots went to storm lately had been either completely empty or nearly to that point, and their supply was beginning to dwindle. It was beginning to frustrate both Starscream and Ratchet.

Needless to say, Miko had only sat on the humans' couch for a handful of nano-kliks before bounding back over to stand in front of the seeker, bombarding him with questions. This time, though, they were spoken in a much friendlier tone and occasionally met with a reply from the jet, who was starting to find the human's random jump in subjects more entertaining than his failure of a useable map.

Throughout his interrogation, Starscream was also aware of Rafael not-so-subtlety watching them, though his gaze lacked the hostility that Jack's had possessed. Miko seemed to get bored with any of Starscream's answers that had scientific jargon, but Rafael only seemed to perk up more at those. The seeker suddenly recalled Ratchet bragging about the youngest human's capabilities in both science and mathematics on more than one occasion.

“So how come none of the autobots have wings like you do? Well, other autobots, at least,” Miko asked, swinging her legs through a potion of the hand-railing and sitting down, all while continuing to stare unabashedly. 

Raf looked away from the screen that he and Jack were racing on again, but the older human didn't so much as blink.

“Because I am a seeker, Miko,” Starscream answered patiently, sparing her a glance as he typed. “They are not.”

“Yeah, but, like, what's the difference?” she pushed impatiently.

“What alternate forms one can access depends on the coding of the bot's spark. Similar to your human DNA, Cybertronians possess 'genetic' differences. We can all be divided into two sub-categories: grounders and fliers. All seekers are fliers, but as seekers are what humans would refer to as a 'race' and not simply a sub-category, then there are some fliers who are not seekers,” Starscream summed up.

Miko blinked, looking a little lost, but then Raf piped up with, “So what's the difference between seekers and non-seeker fliers?”

Starscream glanced at the smallest human, meeting his eyes. Raf flushed, but held his gaze.

“There are a variety of human flying contraptions that don't possess wings, yes?” Starscream asked.

Raf nodded, standing up and slowly approaching where Miko was. “Sure. Helicopters and blimps. Sometimes hovercrafts.”

Starscream inclined his helm, resting his servos on the edge of the keyboard and ignoring the map. “A seeker achieves flight much like a human airplane would. Speeds generate air flows that interact with the shape of the wings to achieve lift, which is what can keep you in the air. Cybertronains are much heavier than what would allow an airplane to stay in the air- thus, seekers have slimmer frames and far fewer alternate forms to choose from than a grounder does.”

Miko tilted her head to the side, and Starscream saw Jack glance away from the video game for a moment, obviously interested in the seeker's words but not wanting to show it. Starscream didn't comment and instead pressed on. “Take Bulkhead or Bumblebee for example; they could take any form that could accommodate their protoform and plating, from a light passenger vehicle to the heaviest piece of construction equipment. Simply put, weight is not a restriction to them. Seekers would not be able to attain flight if the form they chose was too heavy for their engines to properly power. And there have always been numerous ground forms to choose from on any intelligently-populated planet, simply due to how flying works.

“Non-seeker fliers, on the other servo, achieve flight through other means.” He paused for a moment to access the internet- a feature that Ratchet had just removed from Starscream's device's restrictions. “A helicopter's rotor blades spin fast enough to create lift, for example, and a blimp contains a sack of gasses lighter than the air surrounding it, letting it float. These ways of flying don't have frame restrictions, as seekers do.”

“But what's to stop you from turning into a car, exactly?” Raf asked, ever the curious one.

“Aside from the fact that my spark is only coded to allow one alternate form, as most sparks are?” Starscream asked, raising an optic ridge wryly. “There are some exceptions to that, but they are few and far between- Seekers have what is referred to as 'sky-call.' There is a primal need to be in the air almost constantly, and if we were to have a ground mode, then sky-call would slowly drive a seeker to the brink of insanity. Non-seeker fliers experience this to a degree, but not nearly as deeply as a seeker will.”

“So you _have_ to fly?” Miko asked, lifting her head from where she'd rested it on her hands. “Why aren't you out there right now, then? Ooh, can I go with?”

“Miko, I'm not sure that's such a good idea,” Jack said, speaking up for the first time since they'd arrived. He also stood and approached the other two humans, sending a small glare at Starscream. The seeker merely watched the raven-headed male impassively.

“Aww, you are so not fun!” Miko whined, sending a look at Starscream that clearly asked for backup.

“At the moment, I am... unable to transform, so flying is out of the question for either one of us,” Starscream admitted, dropping his optics to study his servos. His own words swam through his processor, mocking him. _“A Cybertronian that can't achieve transformation- I'd be a laughingstock!”_

“You can't transform?” Raf asked, voice slightly higher than normal with surprise. “Why not?”

Starscream looked back up and briefly shuttered his optics, but then his faceplates hardened and he returned his gaze to the holoscreens, ending the conversation.

Miko opened her mouth to protest, but before she could say anything, she was cut off by her guardian, whom Starscream had forgotten was in the room, along with Bumblebee and Ratchet.

“Miko, it isn't nice to pry into other bots' business,” the green warrior admonished. She sighed, and the three humans worked their way back up to their designated area.

A measure of gratitude entered Starscream's field, and he allowed it to barely brush against the edges of Bulkhead's. Then the seeker turned and retreated to his quarters, suddenly exhausted and ready for a stasis-nap.

* * *

* * *

Bulkhead watched the seeker after he'd (politely) told Miko to stop talking, not expecting to be thanked for the action. Granted, Starscream didn't so much as glance in his direction, even when he started to leave the room. But the heavy-hitter appreciated the sentiment all the same.

If he wasn't already studying the jet closely, he would've missed the small exchange between he and a certain medic. Their optics met briefly, and Starscream stiffened just barely, plates flattening by a bare degree. If the wrecker had to guess, he would say that there had been something Starscream hadn't liked in Ratchet's field. Then the seeker was gone, and Ratchet vented quietly- a noise that obviously wasn't meant for anyone else to hear.

“I'm going to look for another one of these,” Ratchet announced blankly, holding up a tool that Bulkhead would say he had grabbed randomly if he'd known any better. Then the ambulance left the room through another hallway- and not the one that led to the storage rooms.

There was silence for a moment, and then Miko asked, “What's up with the doc-bot and Starscream?”

Bulkhead shuttered his optics in surprise. He loved his little charge dearly, but sometimes he wondered if she knew how to pay attention to her surroundings and not the world in her head.

He exchanged a look with Bumblebee, who's optics were wider than usual, the timid confusion in his field clearly saying that he had no idea how to broach the subject with the children.

“Uh, it's adult stuff, Miko,” Bulkhead said tentatively. She pouted at that.

“So they like each other?” Raf asked innocently, looking between Bulkhead and his own guardian. Bulkhead's engine coughed at the assumption, and Bumblebee whirred frantically, waving his hands at Raf.

 _“It's not that simple,”_ 'Bee intoned.

Miko and Raf looked at each other (after Raf had translated, of course).

“Then what is it?” Jack asked despite himself, raising an eyebrow.

Bumblebee caught Bulkhead's optic and quickly shook his helm. Bulkhead vented and looked back at the children. “Look, guys, it really isn't our place--”

“Aw! C'mon, Bulk! Please?” Miko pouted, using what the humans called “puppy dog eyes” on him. “We're part of the team, and he is now, too! We should get to know!” Raf gave a noise of agreement, but there was a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. Jack remained silent.

“You're not going to let this go, are you?” Bulkhead asked glumly. Bumblebee rolled his optics, knowing a lost cause when he saw one.

“Nope!” Miko chirped happily, knowing the exact same thing.

Bulkhead vented again. “Alright, fine. But you didn't hear this from us, okay?” The wrecker paused to peer over his shoulder, making sure Ratchet wasn't back in the room yet. In the clear, he continued. “Megatron hurt Starscream real bad- _has been_ hurting Starscream for a long time. It messed the mech up in more ways then one, but I think he's holding himself together pretty well, all things considered.”

 _“Focus, Bulkhead,”_ 'Bee pushed, looking back down the hallways himself.

“Right. Well, long story short, it messed up Starscream's spark to the point where he has trouble transforming, among other things.”

All three of the humans stared back at Bulkhead, wide-eyed.

“Is that why he joined you guys?” Miko asked, getting a nod from Bumblebee in answer.

“What did Megatron do?” Jack asked, voice low in horror.

Bulkhead held up his servos and shook his helm, though. “Oh, no. That's all I'm gonna say. If you want to know more, you're gonna have to ask Starscream yourself.”

He saw Miko's eyes dart toward the hallway Starscream had disappeared down, and remained vaguely impressed when she made no move to follow him. For the time being, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep finding ideas to add in, and consequently making my outline and rough chapter count longer! But if that's what it takes to get this story done properly, then I'll do it. :) It's becoming a bit more of a beast than I'd originally bargained for.
> 
> Next chapter we'll visit T.M.I., and then Stronger, Faster. Cue the fluff and angst! ;)


	15. T.M.I.

Lounging in the main room and drinking from a cube of fresh energon was a perfect way to relax after practicing transformations, in Starscream's opinion. It also allowed him to keep an optic on a certain medic, not that he would admit that to anyone.

The team had returned from the battlefield a short while ago, while Starscream had been cooped up in his quarters. He hadn't paid much mind to the fact, other than to watch Optimus before the Prime had disappeared somewhere deeper in the base. He'd been keeping his field slightly tighter around him than usual, hiding what was obviously disappointment that they'd lost the data cylinder to the decepticons. The seeker was unsure how to react to that, but giving Optimus some space for the time being seemed like the wisest course of action.

Miko ran up to Ratchet then, exclaiming, “Seriously, Ratch! You need to see what Bulk's painting in here.”

Ratchet lifted his optics from the microscope that he'd been peering into, rolling his optics and saying, “Yes, I'm sure one hasn't truly lived until one has beheld Bulkhead's take on still life with lugnuts.” He followed Miko all the same.

Starscream's interest was piqued, seeing how worried Miko actually appeared. He stood from the large crate he'd been using as a seat and followed the two, swirling the remaining energon in his half-full cube.

“See? Did I tell you or what?” Miko asked, pointing at something the jet couldn't quite see. He could hear Bulkhead muttering, though, and something wasn't right.

“The differential one third 'r' cubed is 'r' 'd' 'r' 'r',” the wrecker was saying, and then Starscream could see Bulkhead's masterpiece.

Ratchet's field stiffened, radiating shock and confusion without him realizing it. Starscream pulled away from it slightly.

“That is not art,” Ratchet said, looking amazed. “It's _science._ ”

The medic's interest now growing, it took less than a klik for him to force Bulkhead over to the medical bay and begin strapping various sensors to the wrecker's helm. Starscream saw Ratchet reaching behind himself blindly, too caught up in properly attaching a net scanner to glance backwards. Starscream picked up the tool that the ambulance was attempting to grab and gently pressed it into his servo.

Ratchet shot him a surprised look, but then nodded his thanks. Something deep within Starscream lurched at the sudden optic-contact, but the medic looked away, and Starscream didn't say anything. From there it was easy to get the scanners up and running, and then summon the rest of the team over the public comm.

“This hot spot you see here is information. Data. Living energy,” Ratchet said, waving a servo at the display on the holoscreens.

“Hold on. It's _alive_ , it's _on fire_ , and it's in _Bulkhead's brain?!_ ” Miko asked worriedly, eyes wide.

“Chill, Miko. The data's only inhabiting a fraction of my 'brain'. Infinitesimal by standard neural net densities,” Bulkhead replied easily. Then he paused and asked, “Wait, how do I know all that?”

“Based on what we witnessed during our skirmish, the living data must have been programmed to eject when it sensed unauthorized access.” Optimus recalled, looking towards Ratchet.

“A security measure,” Ratchet pondered aloud.

“It would have jettisoned heavenward, lost to the stars.” Optimus intoned, making Starscream roll his optics. Sometimes the Prime was just as dramatic as Knockout.

“Except my fat engine block got in the way,” Bulkead laughed, sitting up and knocking a servo on his helm.

Arcee crossed her arms over her chassis. “Every 'con there made a grab for it, but the cylinder doesn't go off until Miko touches it?” The femme ignored Starscream's optics on her, but the way her plating tightened let him know that his stares weren't going unnoticed.

“The cylinders originated from Cybertron's golden age, predating the autobot-decepticon division.” Ratchet pressed another key on the terminal, replacing the scan of the wrecker's processors with that of a data cylinder. Starscream studied it briefly with interest, only half-paying attention to the conversation as it continued.

He took a step closer to the walls, reading the glyphs that Bulkhead had painted. They were definitely equations, but what they pointed to...

“Density ratios, chemical chains... incubation temperatures?” Starscream muttered, raising an optic ridge. “Ratchet...?”

Ratchet met Starscream's optic and nodded, confirming that he had the same suspicions. “I do not wish to falsely rally anyone's hopes, but these equations appear to be the formula for a synthetic energon.”

It took barely a nano-klik for that to sink in, and Bumblebee beeped excitedly, the noise more of an exclamation than words, but it was clear in his field that he was elated.

“We hit the motherload?!” Smokescreen gasped, optics brightening.

“Miko, do you understand what this means?” Bulkhead exclaimed, proceeding to ramble when it was clear that she didn't.

The others were quick to list some of the benefits that manufacturing their own energon would provide, and Starscream's thoughts turned to their quickly-emptying stockpiles. His mood dampened slightly when that led to the memory of his practically-useless maps.

“We got the goods, and all Megatron got was an empty bucket,” Arcee laughed, a mad gleam in her optic. Smokescreen nodded his agreement, clenching a fist.

“How often do I get to use my noggin to save the day?” Bulkhead declared, a degree of pride in his vocals.

After that, it was only a matter of letting Bulkhead write the formulas down, a process that was quickly aided by the rest of the autobots scrounging up large trays and sections of spare walling for the wrecker to paint on. Only a half-joor later, Ratchet quietly conferred to Optimus that the living data was slowly rewriting Bulkhead's mind.

Starscream wasn't surprised when the Prime chose Bulkhead over the formula, and the scientist side of him scoffed at the notion. Cybertronians had been searching for a successful synthetic formula for eons, and he would so casually throw it away? But the more rational side of him, the piece of himself that he called his 'autobot side' approved of the choice. It only reinforced the idea that Optimus was not Megatron, and that the Prime was a much better leader.

Megatron wouldn't have hesitated in terminating any number of mecha if it meant getting a complete formula.

At Arcee's suggestion, Optimus developed a plan to get the cylinder back from Megatron- by having the mech deliver it himself. The seeker thought it was a bit absurd, in all honesty, but he couldn't offer any better ideas, so he helped Ratchet throw together a quick signal replicating that of the cylinder's.

Arcee and Bumblebee then departed to do something they'd predetermined with their respective charges- Starscream hadn't quite caught what, and he also didn't quite care- and Optimus took Smokescreen with him to set up the rendezvous point with Megatron. The rookie looked fairly starstruck and followed Optimus with no hesitation.

Ratchet vented, a noise that sounded rather loud in the sudden quiet. He sent Starscream a quick glance, asking, “Will you read the formula aloud, so I can log it?”

Surprised, Starscream nodded.

A half-hour later by Earth standards, Miko came running up to them, gripping the handrail of the catwalk so tight her knuckles were turning white. “Ratchet, I think Bulkhead's losing his mind!”

Ratchet jolted, exchanging a glance with Starscream. Neither mech had to say anything, the glance conveying all that Miko needed to know. Her expression fell.

“You guys... already know.”

Ratchet laid a servo on the top of his holoscreen, pulling himself slightly closer as he fixed the human with a serious gaze. “Miko, we didn't want to frighten you. Rest assured that Optimus is working on it.”

Miko's eyes grew shiny. “Optimus isn't Bulkhead's doctor. I just want to know, when he's done spitting out that formula, he'll go back to being regular old Bulkhead, right?”

The medic's gaze fell, and Starscream swore he could hear Miko's heart break.

“Miko,” Starscream said softly, abandoning the glyph-covered trays. When the human met his optics, he jerked his helm in a 'follow-me' sort of motion. When he turned and started to walk away, he could hear her hesitate for a moment before she decided to follow.

He led her to a slightly more secluded area of the room, where she could still stand on a section of the catwalk and remain at optic-level. Bulkhead's scientific muttering was just barely audible to Starscream, and they weren't far enough away that Miko couldn't see him, but Ratchet was out of audial range.

Only then did the seeker fully look at her, and say, “You need to be strong, Miko. Your wrecker's condition is only going to further deteriorate, and if he is past the point of no return... You need to be strong for him.”

For a moment, Miko looked incredibly angry. Starscream was sure that if she'd had an EM field, in would have been pressing down over his own in a blind fury. Then it faded, though, and she seemed to wilt. “You don't think he's going to make it,” she said, looking at the floor.

“On the contrary. Prime has proven time and time again to be... incredibly resourceful. Perhaps it is my experience as a decepticon speaking, but I do not like to give false hope. It seems unnecessarily cruel,” the jet rebuttaled.

Miko looked up, brow furrowed. Before she could say anything, though, Starscream pressed on.

“I am simply asking you to keep your mind straight. That is what Bulkhead needs most right now.” Almost as an afterthought, he added. “Don't mourn what you haven't yet lost.”

She was silent for a moment, as though pondering his words. Then she asked, “What did Megatron do to you?”

Startled, Starscream's wings stiffened and his plating flattened. To say he hadn't been expecting the question was an understatement. “Bulkhead...?” he managed to ask.

Miko sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. “He and Bumblebee wouldn't tell us! All he said was that you'd been hurt, and I had to ask you. But it sounds like you've lost someone, and it made me think... I dunno.” Her face turned a light shade of red, but she continued to look him in the optic, and it was clear that she wanted an answer.

Starscream vented. What hadn't Megatron done would be easier to answer. He settled for a piece of the truth. “I lost my trinemates, Skywarp and Thundercracker. No, Megatron wasn't the one that terminated them, but he was as good as.”

A thought struck him, and he reached into his subspace to grab a holocube that he'd carried for the better portion of his life. He'd all but forgotten that he had it thanks to recent events, and his subspace felt strangely empty without it. Shaking the thought off, he onlined the device, and it projected a still image of he and his trinemates into the air so Miko could see.

She studied the three seekers pictured, a curious gleam in her eye. The longer she looked, the more it was obvious that the image saddened her as well, for a reason Starscream couldn't quite place. Then she looked back up at him and commented. “It must have hurt to lose them.”

“Yes,” Starscream nodded, offlining the holocube and tucking it safely back in his subspace. “Which is why you shouldn't forsake what time you have with Bulkhead now.”

She sniffed, wiping at her nose. _Gross_ , she was _leaking_ , Starscream noted with a shudder. He may not have been as vain as Knockout, but the thought still sat oddly with him. And he'd never considered himself great at consoling others, so he cast about for a topic. Her words from a few days past suddenly came to him.

“How about a flight?” he asked lamely.

Miko offered him a watery smile and glanced over at her guardian. “Thanks, Starscream, but I think I'll stay with Bulkhead for now.”

The seeker nodded, glad she was taking his words to spark. A more selfish part of him was also glad that it meant he wouldn't have to perform an additional transformation. He most likely would accomplish the feat, but that didn't mean it wouldn't hurt like a fragger. Then Miko was walking back over to Bulkhead and attempting to engage him in light conversation, and Starscream watched her go with a certain fondness in his optics.

The feeling of optics on his own frame drew his attention to Ratchet, who'd been discreetly watching his interactions with the human for Primus only knew how long. There was something in the medic's optics that Starscream couldn't identify over the distance between them, but the sudden twinge in his spark made him hesitant to walk back over. 

When Ratchet was momentarily distracted with retrieving Bulkhead's newest tray, Starscream took his chance to head to his berthroom. A plan was beginning to form in his processors, and he had the perfect place to set up his holocube- on his berthside table, where it belonged.

Not locked up in subspace, to be protected from prying optics and greedy servos.

* * *

* * *

Something wasn't right.

Ratchet wasn't in the main room. That in itself wasn't too odd- he made frequent trips to out-of-sight storage rooms for spare parts. But neither Bulkhead or Miko were in the room any longer, either, and the wrecker wasn't exactly in the right state-of-mind to be wandering of his own free will...

Confused, Starscream moved to the main terminal, opening up a map that would track each of the autobots' life signals. According to the system, neither one were in Nevada any longer, let alone anywhere near the base.

Starscream sucked in a vent of air, optics widening. Two more signals were fast approaching, and neither one were friendly. He pinged Ratchet's comm. link and wrapped his long digits around the ground bridge controls. He hesitated for only a fraction of a nano-klik before activating the bridge and sprinting into it. Ratchet would only call for backup, and by then Starscream had a sinking feeling it would be too late.

Emerging from the other side provided him with a view of an empty arena, and he quietly made his way to a darkened parking lot filled with parked trucks. Knockout and Breakdown were wandering the lot, evidently searching for a certain wrecker.

Starscream cursed his luck, and when Breakdown caught sight of Miko and made a grab for the human, the seeker launched himself from his hiding place and kicked the big mech with enough force to send him flying.

“Starscream?!” Knockout exclaimed, familiar field radiating nothing but shock. It only amplified from there, and the seeker knew that the sports car had caught sight of his new insignia.

“Hello, 'doctor',” the seeker purred, charging at the cherry mech and swiping long talons over his precious paint job.

Before he could do anything else, Breakdown reappeared and tackled him, knocking Starscream to the ground.

“I've got him, you find the wrecker,” Breakdown grunted, raising his hammer menacingly. Starscream growled at him, and Knockout turned away with a smirk, though it was marred by his concern for his newest scratches. 

Breakdown reclaimed his attention, asking, “So, decided to switch to the losing side, did you?”

Starscream didn't deign to reply, pushing Breakdown off of himself and transforming a servo to his root blaster. The high-concentration energy blasts held the blue brute at bay for the time being, but Starscream couldn't afford to split his concentration between two targets.

The sounds of transformation reached them, and then Knockout began to shriek about his messed-up paint.

Breakdown turned his back on Starscream, advancing towards Bulkhead and knocking the mech back with his over-sized hammer. The wrecker fell with an earth-shaking thud, obviously not prepared for combat. Starscream cursed again and began to fire at the two of them, yelling at Miko to _get out of the way_ when she screamed for Knockout to stop, the whir of his sawblade almost drowning her out.

She ignored him, though, picking up a piece of scrap metal and swinging it at Knockout. Starscream lost track of what happened next, but all three mecha ducked when twin beams of red light erupted from Bulkhead's optics, shooting skywards.

“Not again!” Breakdown shouted, covering his helm.

When the light disappeared, Knockout swept the wrecker in a scan. Starscream hesitated in his attack, curious despite himself. “Dead battery,” the sports car announced, and Breakdown cursed. “Megatron will peel out paint.”

“So we're gonna have to peel _you,_ ” Breakdown said with a leery grin.

Starscream crouched into a fighting stance, but the fight ended before it could even begin when a ground bridge opened up a short distance away, dropping four autobots into the lot.

“Or peel outta here,” Knockout amended, turning tail and fleeing with Breakdown in tow.

As one, the five autobots turned to see Miko sobbing, and Bulkhead's prone frame remaining completely unresponsive.

* * *

* * *

To say Starscream hadn't been expecting a guitar solo to be what revived Bulkhead would be an understatement, but that was exactly what happened. He only lingered for a moment to watch their reunion, and then that of the teams', feeling almost as though he were intruding on something that was meant to be private.

Bulkhead caught his optic over Bumblebee's shoulderplating and nodded, the motion conveying more to Starscream than the wrecker could ever realize.

Then the seeker walked out of the main room, unaware of a certain pair of blue optics on his retreating form.

He fell into recharge that night staring at the still image of his trinemates, and if coolant pooled in the corner of his optics... Well, no one had to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Petition to change Miko's name to Mijo, since that's what I keep typing it as, lol.
> 
> Next chapter is Stronger, Faster. Fluff alert, guys! FLUFF! And Starscream will finally contemplate some of his own feelings, too!


	16. Stronger, Faster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, but I'm tired of sitting on it. It's a bit rough in places, and I'll edit it later.

“Did you measure this sample?” Ratchet asked.

Starscream barely glanced up from the data pad full of equations he was carrying. “Yes, it's the correct amount.”

The seeker caught the medic's nod out of the corner of his optic, and Ratchet picked the cylindrical container and loaded it into a piece of equipment right as Bumblebee entered the silo, letting Rafael out of the interior of his alternate form before he transformed up. The small human raced up the catwalk until he was above the two scientists.

Then he asked, “Is that synthetic energon?”

“Yes,” Ratchet confirmed, waving at a dormant piece of machinery lying on a table. “We were just about to test it out. I see you come equipped with protective goggles.”

“I can watch?!” Raf asked excitedly.

Starscream watched expectantly as Ratchet loaded the synthetic energon in, and then the machine powered up. Raf cheered, and the seeker swept the machine in a scan to see the rate at which the energon was being consumed, jotting down notes on his data pad.

“It works! 'Bee!” the small human yelled.

“Hep, ep ep!” Ratchet said quickly. “This iteration of the formula requires further trial before we can even think of using it for fuel, ammunition, or first aid.”

Starscream tuned out his next words about their dwindling energon supply, already knowing quite well how poorly their levels were faring. A part of him felt guilty for the higher amounts he had to consume, as a seeker's spark burned hotter, but he hoped that his work with Ratchet on the SynthEn would prove successful and give them an edge.

A light began to flash, and and Arcee, who was standing at the main holoscreens, announced, “More energon on the move.”

“Again?” Bulkhead all but groaned.

“Their recent activity suggests a familiar pattern. The decepticons are desperately scouting for new deposits to mine,” Optimus said. “Autobots-!”

“Optimus,” Ratchet said, cutting off the Prime's words with a hint of regret in his voice. “If one of you come back injured this time, well... our supplies are nearly depleted.”

“Understood, Ratchet,” Optimus said gently. Then, in a fiercer tone, he called, “Autobots, roll out!”

As they disappeared in the ground bridge, Ratchet vented. Starscream looked at him, pulling his field in slightly so the medic couldn't feel his concern. “Sometimes... I wish I could do more,” Ratchet said quietly, the words obviously not meant for anyone else to hear.

Starscream picked up on it, anyways, and his curiosity picked up when Ratchet's optics brightened and he moved toward the cupboard they'd been storing the synthetic energon in. When he pulled a cylinder out, a determined look in his optic, Starscream's spark fell.

Quickly, the seeker wrapped a servo around Ratchet's wrist, snapping, “What are you doing?! You said yourself that it wasn't ready to be used as fuel!”

Ratchet's optics narrowed, and he briefly glanced down at the seeker's servo, but Starscream refused to pull it away. “Sometimes the only way to move forward is to take calculated risks. You know this, as every mech of science does.”

Starscream studied him intently for a nano-klik, and then vented. A part of him didn't like the idea, but he wasn't exactly in a position to stop the medic. He gave a brief nod and let go of Ratchet, and watched intently as the ambulance jammed the injector into his arm. The liquid slowly drained into his systems, the seeker watching intently for any side effects.

Interestingly enough, the medic's optics brightened and dimmed at the same time, glowing but gaining a faraway look as though he'd lost the ability to see what was in front of himself. Then he dropped the cylinder, the shattering of the glass only dimly registering in Starscream's audials as he watched the medic fall in slow motion. His spark ground to a halt at the sight of Ratchet's prone form, and he could only stare in shock as Rafael ran up to Ratchet's side.

“Ratchet!” he yelled, placing his tiny hands on the ambulance's plating. Then he looked up at Starscream, organic optics wide. “What happened?! Is he okay?!”

Starscream briefly shuttered his optics, the human's words spurring him into action. He swept the medic in a scan and frowned at the readouts.

“He's still online, yes. All systems are functioning... optimally?”

At his affirmation, Rafael returned his attention to the ambulance, crawling onto Ratchet's chestplating and calling his designation. Stubbornly, Raf repeated himself, and soon enough Ratchet's systems began to hum louder, signaling his onlining.

“Ugh,” he groaned as he started to sit up, Rafael sliding back down to the ground in the process. “How is it that such small creatures can be so loud?”

Starscream hesitated, but then offered the medic a servo. The Ratchet's optics narrowed, and he knocked the seeker's digits away. Confusion seeped into the seeker's field, both from the medic's uncharacteristic act and the fact that the usual blue of Ratchet's optics had gone a sour green.

“Are you okay?” Raf asked, oblivious to the exchange. “You fell.”

“I'm fine,” Ratchet said immediately, brushing aside the words. “I'm... more than fine,” he realized, rolling some of his joints and checking the medical screen hidden in his arm. “Energy efficiency up thirty percent? Engine outputs optimal?”

He gave a happy scoffing noise. His optics shifted to Starscream for a nano-klik and quickly back to Rafael. “Any word from the others?”

Raf shook his head.

Ratchet returned to his usual spot at the terminal, monitoring the team's vitals and locations. He tutted, and Starscream looked over to see that Arcee had become separated from the rest. Optimus' order to send a bridge was no surprise, but a loud beep that followed had Ratchet visibly stiffening.

“She's hurt,” he said, pulling on the levers to power up the bridge. To Rafael, he said, “Man the groundbridge,” before transforming and driving through.

Starscream vented, wondering if being ignored was going to become a regular occurrence.

He took Ratchet's spot, watching the large holoscreens as Raf pulled up a copy of them on his laptop. The human didn't say anything, but he shot Starscream a nervous look. The seeker knew it had to do with the team's situation, so he let it slide.

A few kliks later, the team returned to the base, Ratchet at the front of the group.

“What happened?” Raf asked, racing down to the lower catwalk with his eyes fixed on the returning 'bots. Starscream watched them as well from his place at the terminal, curious but silent.

“I didn't see it, but I heard the doc was a one-bot wrecking machine!” Bulkhead exclaimed.

Ratchet chuckled, field laced with self-satisfaction. The medic plucked Rafael from the catwalk in a careless motion as he passed, playfully bouncing the boy in a way that was rather unlike him. He all but dropped the human with a quick, “Hey, sport.”

His unusually-green optics met Starscream's as he passed, and he winked.

Starscream shuttered his optics in surprise. None of the others seemed to notice the exchange.

“Alright, spill,” Smokescreen said, drawing the ambulance's attention back to the group of warriors. “What's your secret?”

“No secret,” Ratchet replied with a smirk. He tossed one of the glowing cylinders towards them, and Bumblebee caught it. “Just a little something I like to call SynthEn.”

The container was passed to Bulkhead, who glanced at it. “I thought the formula was-”

“-Incomplete?” Ratchet interrupted. “Not anymore.”

Optimus lightly pried the cylinder from the wrecker, studying it with a deep look in his optic. He'd been strangely silent throughout the exchange. After a long moment, he met his medic's optic and said gravely, “I question the wisdom of using yourself as a test subject, Ratchet.”

The Prime's cerulean optics shifted slightly, coming to rest on Starscream and fixing him in a questioning gaze. Starscream's tank roiled, and he looked away, ashamed for reasons he couldn't quite place.

“You didn't see him, Optimus. I did,” Arcee argued. “We should all take this stuff!”

“Or give Ratchet more, so we can take a vacation,” Bulkhead joked.

“Be as it may, the formula is still incomplete,” Optimus said lightly, but there was a hint of something heavier in his tone.

Ratchet looked like he wanted to say something, but he clenched his jaw and remained silent.

Optimus vented, setting the cylinder down and announcing, “In the future, tests will be restricted to machines, not autobots.”

* * *

* * *

Almost the instant Bumblebee pulled back into base from taking his charge home, an almighty crash shook the entire structure. Starscream jerked his wings up stiffly in surprise. Arcee was the first to go investigate, followed closely by Bumblebee. Starscream hesitated for a moment before trailing after them, curious despite himself.

The sight that greeted them was an upside-down Bulkhead leaning against a wall. The remains of a second wall were crumbled around him, and Ratchet stepped through the hole that was undeniably wrecker-shaped.

“What was that?” Arcee demanded.

Starscream watched as Smokescreen peered over Ratchet's shoulderplating from inside the room, a hint of a smile playing at his lips at the sight of Bulkhead's predicament.

“You've got some competition, Bulk,” Ratchet preened, flexing his arms in the way the seeker had seen humans do to show off in his various perusals of the internet. “I'm a bit stronger than I used to be. A bit faster, too. Huah!”

He threw a fist towards Bumblebee, pulling up short only an inch from the scout's faceplates. The ambulance smirked and challenged, “Think you can take me, muscle car?”

Bumblebee's held up his servos in surrender, optics wide as he whirred, _“How about we just don't find out?”_

Ratchet snorted and let his arms fall back to his sides. He stepped over a pile of debris and tossed a derisive, “Wimp,” over his shoulder. His optics fell on Arcee and he clicked his glossa. A flirtatious, “How's it hummin'?” left his vocalizer, leaving the other four autobots speechless.

Starscream, on the other servo, saw red at the comment. For reasons he couldn't see, his spark flared possessively, and the sound of his energon in his audials made him lose track of the conversation. When Ratchet walked past without so much as a glance in Starscream's direction, though, the jet's anger was replaced by a hollow feeling.

Confused and not in the mood to confront the others, he ignored their chatter and moved back towards the main room. It wasn't his intention to follow Ratchet, but when he caught sight of the medic walking towards their testing area his conscious pressed him to follow.

Ratchet was in over his helm, that much was obvious to the former deception scientist.

As Starscream approached, he heard the medic muttering to himself, and his spark sank at the words.

“I need to be at the top of my game,” Ratchet said, pushing the doors of the cabinet open. The dull glow on the SynthEn was just barely visible to Starscream, and when the medic's servo retracted with a fresh cylinder of the substance, Starscream stepped forward.

Making no move to initiate contact, Starscream said, “Shouldn't you be taking it easy? Optimus explicitly stated the SynthEn wasn't to be imbibed by Cybertronians yet.”

Ratchet turned to Starscream with a scoff, his startlingly unfamiliar green optics still a surprise no matter how many times Starscream saw them. “Since when do you care what Optimus says? You've spent the entire war up until this point fighting against him! And all you've amounted to with that time is being Megatron's frag doll.”

Starscream jerked back, Ratchet's words acting like a punch to the tank. His wings drooped limply and his glossa felt like it was made of lead, preventing him from retaliating vocally.

The seeker turned to leave, mute, but a servo clamping down on his wrist made him stop. He didn't think there was any way Ratchet could make the situation better, and the medic's next words were even worse, tearing at wounds that had just been beginning to heal and digging in deeper.

“You know, Megatron isn't exactly here. So if you ever need anyone else to give a repeat performance, you know where my quarters are.”

Assaulted with memories he didn't want to relive, Starscream forcefully jerked his wrist away and fled the room.

* * *

* * *

The solitude on the roof of the silo was hardly noticed by the agitated seeker, whose mind was buzzing loudly.

He perched as near to the edge as he dared, the distance to the sandy desert ground below not even noticed to him where it would be to a lesser mech. He could see for miles in every direction from his perch, though he registered none of it.

Ratchet's words bounced around the inside of his helm, making him feel worse than he had in a long while. With a jolt, he realized that his mood had slowly been improving, and he hadn't even noticed. Being out from under the sadistic warlord's command had been helping in ways that nothing else could.

But what he couldn't process was why Ratchet's words had hurt so much. He'd heard them before, whispered in conversations in darkened corners of the Nemesis when they'd thought he couldn't hear them. The jeers and names had stung even then, but not to the degree that the autobot medics' had.

And then there was the jealousy that had reared its ugly head earlier. That had been more of a surprise than anything else. He didn't care for Arcee any more than she cared for him. Starscream pondered the thought for a moment, and then with a sinking feeling in his tanks wondered if he was becoming possessive of Ratchet.

Ever since the medic had brought up the issue of his spark-call, Starscream had done all he could to push the thought out of his helm. But sparkmates were a precious thing, and something inside hurt to see the one who'd claimed to be his flirting with somebot else.

Try as he might, Starscream couldn't feel anything in his spark for the medic, and the thought scared him. Just how badly did Megatron damage him?

But the feeling of jealousy remained, lurking just beneath the surface like a massive, grotesque beast waiting to be set free...

* * *

* * *

When the seeker could see Optimus' rather obvious alternate form returning to base from patrol, he headed back inside.

Ratchet was standing at his medic station and sent a questioning look at Starscream. It took almost everything in the jet's power to ignore the ambulance and not flee the room again.

An alarm went off, and Arcee, who was at the terminal, said, “Energon signal.”

Bulkhead groaned. 

“Ratchet, activate the groundbridge,” Optimus said, always the first down to business. He sent a pointed look at his medic.

“Bumblebee can handle groundbridge duty,” Ratchet waved dismissively. Then he slammed a fists together much like Bulkhead would when he was riled up. “It's time to put some hurt on those decepticons!”

Starscream would have described the look that the Prime gave Ratchet as almost concerned, but he remained silent and nodded to Bumblebee.

The scout pulled the levers, and in a flash of green light, five members of Team Prime disappeared.

Starscream ex-vented rather heavily and wandered over to the work space that had been reserved for the SynthEn project. Much to his surprise, the scout followed after a few kliks.

 _“Doesn't it bother you that you never get assigned to fieldwork?”_ Bumblebee asked.

Starscream shot a curious glance at the sports car. His doorwings were held upright, but there was a level of stiffness to them that suggested nervousness. The seeker was rather surprised that Bumblebee was initiating conversation with him at all.

After a moment, he shrugged. “I love being able to fly freely, but right now, figuring out what's wrong with the SynthEn is my top priority.”

In truth, it did bother him to a degree. Sky call was always present in the back of a seeker's processors when they were on the ground, and Starscream wanted nothing more than to fly for an age without landing. But saying so would damage the thin layer of reputation he'd been slowly building as an autobot, and he'd never been to good about admitting the truth to just anyone.

 _“You sound like Ratchet,”_ 'Bee whirred, something like a smile playing at the edges of his voice. The name made Starscream freeze, wings stiffening, but 'Bee either didn't notice, or didn't mention it. His voice dropped a bit as he amended, _“Well, before the whole SynthEn thing.”_

Starscream forced himself to move again, acting like nothing was wrong. For the most part, he was convincing, but a quiet voice at the back of his processor told him it would be a long while before he could convince himself of that.

Bumblebee offered quiet conversation as Starscream worked, re-cataloging equations and measurements. None of the topics were heavier than the weather, though, a fact for which Starscream was grateful.

The two of them continued that pattern for a half-joor, until Optimus' voice filtered through the base's public comm. “Bumblebee, bridge us back.”

When only four crossed through, something akin to panic crossed Starscream's mind. None of them said anything, though, and Arcee immediately went to the terminal. She typed various commands into the system, huffing when the results came up empty.

“I can't trace him. That stuff must be jamming his signal,” she reported, sending a look to Optimus that managed to look worried and angry at the same time.

“Keep searching,” Optimus said gently. “We will find him eventually.”

Starscream went back to his work on the Synth-En, but his attention wasn't what it had been before. Something was very wrong with the mixture, and through that, Ratchet. The seeker could feel it in his tanks. He cursed himself mentally for not having stopped Ratchet from taking the SynthEn in the first place.

When Arcee announced, “His signal just popped back online,” Starscream vented in deeply. A quick glance of his own at the terminal's holoscreens proved that all was not well, though. Ratchet's energon levels were dangerously low.

So while the others went to retrieve Ratchet, Starscream set up sick bay with the quiet, worried help of Bumblebee. He may not have been a medic in his own right, but he was more qualified than anyone else, save Ratchet.

His spark in his throat, the seeker waited for them to carry Ratchet through. When his optics landed on the medic's unconscious frame, stained with green energon, he felt like purging his tanks. Instead, he waved them over to the medbay.

* * *

* * *

The readouts of the medic's vitals on the medbay terminal were slowly rising. It beeped as he came back online. Confusion was evident in his optics, and he tried to sit up. A firm servo from Optimus on his shoulder had him pressed back into the berth.

“You've lost a lot of energon, old friend. Good, and bad,” Optimus said with a gentle smile.

“Optimus, I-” Ratchet said, movements slow and jerky. It was easy for Starscream to see that the medic's systems were struggling to catch back up, still processing the energon being fed into his systems via IL. “I'm sorry. I just want so badly... to help.”

Starscream glanced at one of the monitors that gave a readout of the medic's vitals- which were slowly returning to normal- when he felt Ratchet's optics on him. He shuttered his optics and didn't turn around.

“You did lead us to a much-needed supply of energon,” Optimus pointed out, as though the glowing pile of cubes was easy to miss.

Ratchet was silent for a moment, and then he said, “The synthetic formula clearly needs further refinement before testing. On machines, not autobots.”

A degree of content and agreement entered the Prime's field, which Starscream could feel barely brushing against the edges of his own. While it was really meant for Ratchet, the red-and-blue mech paused long enough to lay a hand on Starscream's shoulder before moving away.

Ratchet's optics were once again burning holes in Starscream's back struts, and the seeker held his wings in a stiff, high 'v' as he ignored the ambulance. It seemed to be an age before Ratchet attempted to speak again.

“Starscream... I need to apolo-”

“Don't, Ratchet,” Starscream interrupted, his gaze on the terminal's screen never wavering. “Not right now.” The wounds were still too fresh. He added in an afterthought, in a voice almost too small to hear, “Please.”

He could almost hear the gears in Ratchet's helm turning, and then the medic closed his mouth.

The seeker coded a quick program to monitor the medic's vitals and alert him if anything changed. Then he walked towards the hallway. He paused in the doorway, wrestling with himself.

Giving in, he looked back, but Ratchet's optics were offline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, did I promise you fluff? Have some angst instead! :3
> 
> Sorry about the long wait, everyone! My muse has developed a nasty habit of running away when I have the time to write. College just started back up, though, which is what you have to thank for this chapter. My nice long breaks between class are an excellent time to force my muse to work for me again!


	17. Weightless

“The molecular density needs to sit at a 7:2 ratio, or it won't stabilize properly.”

“But you're not factoring in the time increases for lower ratios!”

“Yes- look here. It would be two joor for anything lower than a 7:4.”

Progress on the SynthEn was slow-coming, but at least they were starting to get somewhere. Starscream found it harder to work in such close proximity with the medic after his SynthEn-induced-comments, but as long as the conversations stuck to scientific topics, he found that he was able to function without glitching.

The longer the two of them argued over equations, though, the higher the frustration levels in the room rose. Bumblebee entered the room and immediately stumbled back, the tension in the two conflicting fields so thick it was almost tangible.

Neither one paid any attention to the scout, though, too caught up in their own arguments. Optimus was similarly ignored, until the Prime pressed his field into theirs to announce his presence and rumbled, “That is enough. Bickering like younglings will not solve the formula.”

Ratchet sent a heated glare at Optimus, and Starscream rolled his optics before diverting his attention to the data pad in his servos.

“You two are acting like an old married couple!” Smokescreen laughed, pausing in watching the humans' racing match on their catwalk to grin cheekily at the two scientists.

Starscream sent a strong enough glare to curdle paint, and Smokescreen cleared his throat before looking away nervously.

Optimus moved to the terminal, the action barely going noticed by Starscream. Only the noise of the groundbridge powering up gained his attention, and his sensors picked up Ratchet turning his gaze to their Prime as well. When Optimus made no move to go through the portal himself, Ratchet's optics narrowed.

“Ratchet, Starscream, patrol,” he said simply.

“What?” Ratchet asked, aghast. “Optimus, we are in the middle of highly sensitive research-”

“It can wait,” Optimus overrode, which Starscream found amusing, despite the fact that he was one of the parties being ordered out. “Cluttered processors make for cluttered desks.”

Ratchet scoffed, setting down his tools in such a manner that suggested a degree higher than mere irritation. “Oh, real clever. Throwing my words back at me. You ought to mind your elders, youngling.” His words held no real malice, though, and there was amusement in his field lacing with his irritation.

Starscream watched the display, torn between bewilderment and mute horror. If anyone had spoken to Megatron like that, even in jest, they would have been sent to the medbay in pieces.

Optimus merely smiled at Ratchet, an expression the seeker would find strange on his Prime no matter how many times he saw it.

The medic went through the bridge with a snort and a shake of his helm. Then Optimus turned his entertained gaze to Starscream. The jet raised a brow ridge, wondering what Optimus was playing at. He set his data pad down with no protest, following Ratchet through without a word.

The bridge closed behind him, leaving the two in a remote location that strongly reminded Starscream of his first mission as an autobot. The birdsong was different, though, and the wind wasn't the same. If he'd told that to a grounder, they would have scoffed, but it was something every flier could understand.

The scenery didn't interest the seeker much, the calling of the wind almost too much to resist. It felt like an age since he had last been out of the base, the roof of the silo notwithstanding. The cool air wrapped around his frame, greeting him like an old friend. He lifted his wings slightly higher, spreading them apart as though that action alone would allow the air to gather beneath them and lift him skyward.

Then he became aware of Ratchet's gaze on him, and he found himself asking the first question that came to mind.

“You're older than Optimus?”

His frame warmed slightly when he realized what he'd said, and he pulled his field in closer to hide his embarrassment.

Ratchet seemed taken aback by the question, but he nodded. The cool blue of his optics made the seeker's spark lurch when they met his warm red ones. Truthfully, the shade was a welcomed relief after the strange green they had been, but Starscream still found himself avoiding them when he could. His musings about the change in hue almost made him miss the medic's words.

“Only by a few hundred vorn, though. I had just begun my medical apprenticeship when he was sparked. His creators brought him to the clinic where I was working. That was how we met."

Starscream nodded, filing that piece of information away. A dozen other questions presented themselves to him, but he was suddenly unable to make his vocal processors cooperate. When he didn't say anything in response, Ratchet suggested moving out. The stretch of road they were on was clear at that moment, but Primus only knew when somebody would drive by.

Flying suddenly seemed like an excellent idea (though it usually was to the seeker,) and he transformed, taking the process slow. Progress in that particular are was slow-coming, but he'd found that if he didn't push himself too hard and kept his transformations to a minimum, he could accomplish the task with minimal discomfort.

Once in the air, he flipped to and fro for a while, keeping himself entertained. A serious of simple maneuvers allowed him to stretch his wings and relax back into the feeling of being completely free in the air, something that he could never truly forget. The lightness of Earth's gravity was something he felt he might never get used to, but it allowed for more risky stunts than Cybertron's atmosphere ever had.

As he manipulated his flight patterns, Starscream vaguely registered that Ratchet wavered a bit on the road below, almost as though he was distracted. A wicked idea crossed the seeker's processors, and if his faceplates had been visible he would have been grinning madly.

Altering his course slightly, he stealthily lowered his altitude until he was a good thousand feet above the surface of the planet and just barely behind Ratchet. Then he kicked his thrusters up to full power and dive-bombed the unsuspecting medic.

He pulled out of the dive with a foot to spare and shot back up, laughing when he heard Ratchet yelp and curse, swerving over the yellow lines.

::Starscream!:: Ratchet yelled over the comm. link.

::What?:: the jet replied innocently, leveling off again. Ratchet only grumbled incoherently and closed the link.

They continued on for a while, and Starscream set about to sweeping his scanners wide in every direction. The reports he received were mainly organic readings, chock-full of staticky outputs from the moist atmosphere's interference. Those he discarded.

Though he would never tire of flying, a part of him resented the loneliness being in the air presented him. Skywarp and Thundercracker would always be his first choice of wingmates, even though they were no longer exactly an option. Even among the decepticon ranks, he'd had other fliers to accompany him if he felt the need, though the eradicons weren't quite the same thing as his trinemates.

But now, there was no one. And Ratchet didn't really seem to be in a talkative mood, regardless of the fact that Optimus seemed to be hoping the recon would get the two to clean the air between them.

Almost as if the medic had heard his thoughts, the seeker's comm. pinged.

::There's an old energon mine four kliks south by southwest of here. Small, but serviceable. I want to visit it again.::

::Afraid we're going to run out sometime soon?:: Starscream asked.

Ratchet snorted over the link. ::Hardly. There were other minerals in there, native to Earth. They might be of use in the SynthEn formula.::

Starscream couldn't deny the logic behind that. They were beginning to run low on some of their compounds, anyways. Ratchet's next words, though, made him regret agreeing so easily.

::The terrain to reach it is too rough for my vehicle mode. We'll have to walk.::

Starscream muted his comm. so the ambulance wouldn't hear the seeker grumbling to himself. The last thing he wanted to do was land after being grounded for so long.

Resigning himself to the idea (mostly because he knew he could be forced into stasis at the press of a button,) he swooped towards the ground near where Ratchet was waiting, already in bipedal mode.

He took his transformation slow again, the motion thankfully not igniting any pain in his spark. As the last plate slid into place, however, it did suddenly throb, making him stumble forward. Ratchet was quick to put an arm up, catching the seeker before he could eat a mouthful of the planet's wet soil. The medic's other servo went to Starscream's shoulder in an attempt to steady the mech.

“Starscream?” Ratchet asked, field pressing in worriedly when the jet shuttered his optics and pressed his digits firmly against the seam in his chestplates.

Starscream made an effort to straighten himself up, pulling away from Ratchet's grasp. “I'm fine,” he assured Ratchet distractedly. “That wasn't from transforming.”

That seemed to be the wrong choice of words, though, and Ratchet asked in a pitch marginally higher than normal, “What? What do you mean?”

Starscream grit his denta, and then vented. “Sometimes it just hurts, okay? It's not a big deal.”

“It sounds like a big deal to me,” Ratchet pressed, looking at the seeker in such a way that made him feel as though he were under a microscope.

He said nothing in reply, walking in the direction that the medic had originally indicated in an attempt to abandon the conversation.

It was Ratchet's turn to vent, and he followed after the ex-con. “Fine. But if you decide you want to talk about it, I will listen.”

Starscream didn't answer, but the offer relieved him somewhat. Once again, he was reminded that he was no longer among the ranks of the decepticons. Here, there were mecha who worried about his wellbeing.

It was a nice feeling.

* * *

* * *

A joor later, the two scientists stepped back through the groundbridge, and it took everything in Starscream's power to not drop the samples he was holding in his claws to clap them over his audials.

“What is that?!” he yelled, barely hearing himself over the ruckus that greeted them.

Ratchet's field transmitted dismay, and he didn't answer the seeker. Starscream couldn't tell if that was because the medic couldn't hear him or not.

Starscream's optics fell on a certain pink-haired girl as he moved through the main room, turning the sensitivity levels on his audial receptors down by a good degree. The raw materials were deposited by their work station, and he shot a glance at Smokescreen, who was playing some sort of game on the terminal. His head was bobbing to a beat that no one else could hear, obviously playing out on an internal network. It suggested he'd turned his audials off entirely.

The seeker stared at Miko, who was holding her guitar. A quick internet search told him it was an electric guitar, and she was playing music that the humans referred to as 'heavy metal.'

To Starscream, it just sounded like noise. Horrible noise, at that.

He managed to catch Bulkhead's optic, who was playing an air guitar next to his charge and yelling something that might have been lyrics, and the wrecker offered him a smile. There was a level of glee in the green mech's field that suggested he was taking a bit of joy in Starscream's distraught irritation, and the seeker rolled his optics.

Together, the two finished their song, and Starscream returned his sensitivity levels to their normal rate with a bit of relief.

“What is that?” he demanded again, knowing full well he looked startled and confused.

“Music!” Miko exclaimed happily, holding her guitar aloft. “Me and Bulk were having band practice.”

“ _That_ is not music,” Starscream sneered, almost snottily.

“Maybe on your planet,” Miko frowned, pursing her lips, “but here it's the best kind of music!”

“It's really not,” Jack chimed in, surprising Starscream. He and Raf were on the catwalk, playing video games with earplugs in. It appeared that the taller boy had taken them out when the noise had died down.

Jack met Starscream's optics levelly. The outright hostility had vanished, but there was still distrust in the brown orbs. Starscream gazed at the boy neutrally in return, until Bulkhead's friendly clap to the shoulder nearly sent the seeker stumbling forward.

“Aw, c'mon Screamer! I know you Vosians had 'high class' taste back on Cybertron, but you've got to admit that the Slash Monkees are awesome!” Bulkhead declared, grinning crookedly.

“Please don't call me that,” Starscream replied stiffly, wings sitting up higher in slight offense. “And seeker tastes or not, that wasn't music.”

“I concur,” Ratchet said from behind them, though he looked rather resigned to the situation.

“Aw, you guys are so not fun!” Miko pouted. Bulkhead mirrored the motion, an expression that looked remarkably strange on the large wrecker.

Starscream rolled his optics, realizing why Ratchet was so yielding to the situation- arguing with a wrecker and his charge would get him nowhere.

“So what was music like on Cybertron?” Raf asked, walking over to the railing of the catwalk.

 _“It's just as varied as Earth's,”_ Bumblebee whirred, looking down at his charge.

“Really?” Bulkhead asked, raising an optic ridge. “I wouldn't say so.”

Bumblebee scowled playfully at him, and shook his helm.

 _“Too bad Jazz isn't here. He knows everything about music,”_ the scout replied.

“You're lucky he's not here,” Arcee argued. “You'd never get him to shut up. On a good day, he's almost as bad as Bluestreak.”

Ratchet snorted, amusement coloring his field, but he didn't say anything. The medic tapped Smokescreen on the shoulder to get his attention and then gestured for the rookie to move out of the way. The sports car realized that Miko's death metal had stopped and joined the group.

“What are we talking about?” he asked.

“Music,” Arcee told him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Aw, man! I love Earth's music!” he marveled. “There's so many different kinds! Have you guys heard their EDM?”

Bumblebee trilled excitedly, nodding his helm so hard Starscream thought for a moment it might fly off.

Arcee rolled her optics. “It's okay. I'd rather listen to Shania Twain or Carrie Underwood.”

“Really, Arcee?” Jack asked, joining Raf at the catwalk with a small smile. “Never pegged you for the country type.”

“Watch it, Jack, or that's all you'll be listening to,” Arcee countered mockingly.

Jack held his hands up in surrender, grinning.

“You're one to talk, mister 'I-listen-to-classical-when-I-think-no-one-is-around,'” Miko shot at Jack.

“Hey, did you go through my ipod?” Jack accused, pointing a finger at her. She stuck her tongue out in return, and he asked, “And what's wrong with Mozart or Bach?”

“Boring!” Miko sang, striking a chord on her guitar. Several mechs groaned, and she stuck her tongue out again.

“How many kinds of music does Earth have?” Starscream asked curiously.

All sets of eyes and optics moved to him, and he fought to keep the subtle embarrassment out of his field. He wasn't quite used to being the center of attention among the autobots yet.

Surprisingly, it was Jack who answered first. He held up his fingers as he named different genres, looking thoughtful. “Country, classical, blues, rap, metal, rock, jazz...”

“EDM,” Raf added, holding up his own finger.

Jack nodded. “And a ton other besides. I'm guessing you haven't listened to much, then?”

“Ah, no,” Starscream answered with a half-shake of his helm.

“Music party?” Miko yelled, eyes brightening. “Awesome! Ratchet, we need the terminal!”

“I don't think so,” the medic said, sending Miko a glance. “I need to run calculations with our new samples.”

“That can't wait for half a joor?” Smokescreen asked, looking thoroughly put out and doorwings drooping slightly.

Ratchet fixed him with a stern gaze. “Do you want the SynthEn formula to be completed?”

Smokescreen, for his part, didn't wilt under the look. He and the medic stared each other down for a moment, and then the sports car threw his servos in the air in defeat. “Fine, be that way.”

Ratchet 'harrumphed' and turned back to the screen, and the rest of the bots drifted off to their own activities. Starscream looked at Miko, who had started to put away her guitar.

“Miko, remember that flight I offered you?” he asked suddenly, struck with an idea.

She looked up at him, astonished. “You mean it?!”

He nodded, folding his claws together. “I've been meaning to stretch my wings again, anyways.”

Bulkhead, thankfully, did a good job of hiding his worry, though the seeker had seen his plates tighten somewhat.

“Awesome! Can we go now?!”

Ten minutes later found Starscream within the confines of the boundless sky, a certain excitable passenger in his cockpit as he lazily circled the base below. The tiny figures of Bulkhead and Bumblebee watched from the roof of the silo, below them and barely perceptible standing Jack and Rafael.

Miko whooped as Starscream did a slow barrel-roll, keeping his acrobatics limited due to the strain of gravity on a human body. She seemed to be enjoying it nonetheless, laughing and rattling off names of bands for Starscream to play over his radio. They'd quickly struck a deal that for every song she suggested that he didn't like he got to choose the next trick he would preform. The ones he did prefer meant Miko would choose the move.

Strangely, Miko had a knack for guessing, and Starscream found himself enjoying music ranging from alternative rock to instrumental pieces.

Their game carried them through the air, laughing with one another. The seeker was too preoccupied in the moment to realize that he'd felt lighter than he had in a long while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, not necessarily Ratchet/Starscream fluff, but a bit of fluff to tide you all over! And a bit of team bonding as well. Things are starting to look up again!
> 
> I don't know why, but I can picture Optimus as a bit of a reggae fan. *shrugs*


	18. Sweet and Sour

Early hours were no strange thing to Ratchet, who was online and making his way to the main room before anyone else. By his estimation, it was another three hours before their human companions would be in school for the day.

His thoughts were preoccupied, traveling from formulas and possibility equations to the regular maintenance checks that the rest of the team needed. On top of that was his usual work that had begun piling up while his attention had been focused on the SynthEn.

Despite the noise in his processors, he heard soft noises as he passed the door to Starscream's chambers. Ratchet paused for a moment with his helm tilted toward the room, trying to discern what the seeker was up to. When a pained moan reached his audials, the medic opened the door and looked inside.

Starscream was thrashing about on his berth, optics offline and mind obviously locked within the confines of a charge fright. He muttered inaudibly in his recharge, the few words Ratchet could pick up spoken in a Vosian dialect.

The ambulance took a few steps closer, reaching a servo towards the writhing mech when the language changed to Iaconian Common.

“No, please! He hasn't done anything! Ratchet!”

The words, or rather, the _tone_ that the seeker cried out in made the Ratchet's plating itch. He froze at the sound of his designation, digittips inches away from Starscream's frame.

The seeker tossed again, brushing against Ratchet's servo in the motion. That stirred the medic back to the present, and he set a servo on either of the seeker's shoulders in an effort to still him. “Starscream, wake up.”

Ratchet spoke softly, as though the recipient of his words were a stray animal, or a frightened child. Millennium of experience with war veterans told him the best course of action would be to step back and let Starscream wake naturally. Many times, mecha would snap out of their dreams primed and ready to fight, often striking out before they were fully conscious. Something in the medic wouldn't let Starscream suffer any longer, though, not liking what the seeker had cried out.

“Starscream,” Ratchet called again, with a little more force than he had before.

The seeker went completely still, plates flattening against his protoform. His optics onlined slowly, coolant pooling in the corners, but they were glazed over and took nothing in of what was in front of him. His servos were clenched into fists, and his vents came in shallow, hard gasps.

Ratchet pulled his servos back, the motion catching some part of the ex-con's attention. His optics cleared, and he shuttered them quickly. There was confusion in his field, so Ratchet explained without having to be asked.

“You were having a charge fright,” he said simply.

Starscream nodded, and when he spoke his voice was laced with static, making him sound many vorn older. “What did I say?”

Ratchet gazed at him solemnly, and then decided to play it safe. "You were speaking Vosian. I don't know.”

It took Starscream a moment to digest that, and then he slowly sat up. He flicked one of his wings in an almost dismissive manner, drawing a length of ire from the medic. Ratchet could sense the embarrassment in the seeker's field, though, so he let the jet have that one and let himself out of the room.

* * *

* * *

Once Ratchet was gone, Starscream let his helm fall to his servos, mentally chastising himself. The remains of the charge fright faded even as he thought on it, until he couldn't recall what he'd been seeing at all. He knew it had been bad, though, if the sounds had drawn Ratchet into his chambers.

He groaned, wishing for the thousandth time that he could simply erase the memories that caused all of his trauma. Starscream knew it wasn't a viable option, though, so he put the thought from his mind and eased himself off of the berth.

His spark flared, making him put a servo to his chestplates. It had been acting up a bit more lately, though he didn't like to let that show.

Gritting his denta, he waited for the pain to pass and then made his way out of the room. It was much too early to be up and about, but there was no way he would be able to slip back into recharge now.

As predicted, Ratchet was the only one in the main room, and he was busy peering into a microscope when Starscream entered. The seeker paid no mind to that, wandering over to the cupboard containing the compounds they'd been mixing with the SynthEn to get it to stabilize. It was rather disorganized after their tests from the past few days, and the seeker had always prided himself on being organized.

A level of constant pain resonated in his spark as he worked, occasionally making him wince.

Before he could get much done, though, Ratchet spoke up.

“Starscream, come look at this.”

The seeker's optics briefly met Ratchet's, and the medic stepped aside to give him access to the microscope. Curious, Starscream looked at their most recent variation of the formula. Surprise made him look back up.

“It's stabilized,” he said, a note of wonder in his voice.

Ratchet nodded. “That's what I see, too. We'll need to test it to make sure, though.”

Both mechs thought of the disastrous effects of Ratchet's first trial run, though neither mentioned anything of it. Instead, their talk turned to ways to test it, excitement building in their fields. It wasn't until Starscream quickly turned around that he was reminded of his pain. He froze in his efforts to grab a data pad as his spark flared, digging his claws into the seams of his chestplates as though it would stave off the pain and forcing himself to not groan.

Ratchet was immediately by his side, guiding the seeker to take a seat on the medical berth wordlessly. Starscream onlined his optics, not realizing that they'd darkened, and found Ratchet hovering only inches away with a scanner in his servos.

“I'm okay,” Starscream said rapidly, though his words were slurred and he suddenly had to grip the berth to keep his balance.

“Like pit you are,” Ratchet retorted almost angrily. “Now stay put, and we'll figure out what the problem is.”

Starscream wanted to protest, but a fresh wave of pain made him still and dim his optics again.

Ratchet scanned the seeker, glared at the results, scanned him again, swore, and then scanned him a third time. Starscream didn't take that as a good sign.

The pain dulled to the point when Starscream could focus again, and he moved his gaze to the medic. Ratchet was staring intently at his scanner, and then he whacked it against his servo harshly.

“Fragging technology,” he cursed, glancing back up at his patient. He seemed almost surprised to see Starscream looking back at him.

“What is it?” the seeker asked, almost dreading the answer.

“I don't know,” Ratchet replied, tossing the scanner down and looking almost defeated. “My scanners are only picking up your spark's fluctuating energy levels, which is why you're in pain, but it won't tell me _why_ the levels are fluctuating in the first place!”

Starscream grunted, and slowly maneuvered his weight to his pedes. Ratchet looked as though he had half a processor to stop the seeker, but he didn't, and Starscream vented in relief when his spark didn't throb again.

“Is there a cure?” he asked.

Ratchet shrugged helplessly. “Without knowing the cause? I can't say. You could reduce the energy fluctuations, which is traditionally the job of a sparkmate due to the fact that it requires a sparkmerge, but other than that...” he trailed off, venting and rubbing his faceplates before looking at Starscream again. “None that I know of.”

The answer didn't particularly surprise the jet, and he simply nodded in reply. The idea that a merge could ease the pain that previous merges had most likely caused wasn't a soothing thought, and Starscream figured he could deal with the pain on his own.

He _would_ deal with the pain.

He wasn't about to ask Ratchet for help on that scale. Things were still too confusing between them to needlessly complicate matters further.

Instead, he gestured towards the SynthEn and said, “Let's begin the testing.”

* * *

* * *

It was several hours later when the machinery finally beeped. The children were reclining on their catwalk, having been brought in from school a couple hours before. The members of Team Prime were all assembled in the main room, which was beginning to feel a bit cramped with the influx of members.

Bulkhead, Bumblebee, and Smokescreen were gathered around the catwalk, watching a TV program with the humans and taking turns in cheering for certain trucks in the monster truck rally. Arcee was having a hushed conversation with Optimus, something that Starscream wasn't paying much attention to.

Ratchet scanned the machine, optics going dim as he juggled numbers in his helm. Then he caught Starscream's optic and nodded. The seeker raised an optic ridge, abandoning his own projects and scanning it for himself, checking a few boxes on his data pad.

“That's the last one,” he announced to the medic.

Ratchet nodded approvingly before making a noise in the back of his throat to get the room's attention.

“The SynthEn has stabilized. We completed the formula.”

There was a smile on his faceplates, and pride in his field. Starscream kept a level amount of ego in his own field, not caring who felt it. He'd finally done something useful for his new team, and the feeling was wonderful.

There was a mixed reaction from the rest of the team, all positive in tone. Several of them whooped, and Miko gave Raf a high-five. Bumblebee, Smokescreen, and Arcee all spoke at the same time, their sentences lost within one another's.

Arcee repeated herself, asking, “What did you have to do to it?”

“Since we didn't have the complete original formula, Starscream and I substituted several Cybertronian compounds for similar ones here on Earth,” Ratchet explained.

Starscream nodded. “In some cases, the elements were better than those that the ancients had access to, such as mercury, which is more dense than the plutorainum that the formula originally called for. The mercury served to hold the substance together better.”

The seeker had to give Arcee credit- she'd pressed her mouth into a thin line while he'd talked, but she didn't look away.

“So is it safe for us to use now?” Bulkhead asked, glancing at the SynthEn almost warily.

“It should be,” Ratchet confirmed. “I recommend imbibing small quantities for now, to allow it to integrate into our systems and be sure the side effects of the last batch are gone, though.”

Optimus nodded, looking pleased at the suggestion. “Well done, Ratchet, Starscream. This will no doubt be invaluable in the cycles to come for all Cybertronians, not just the autobots.”

Starscream allowed himself a moment to bask in the Prime's pleasure. When an unpleasant scent wafted past his olefactory sensors, though, he was reminded of what he'd been doing before.

He turned back to the natural energon he'd set to boil, cursing when a thick, blackened sludge met his optics.

“Eww,” Miko said, wrinkling her nose. She caught sight of the offending material when the jet pulled some of it from the pot with a spoon. Jack and Raf looked similarly disgusted. “What is that?”

Starscream vented, setting the batch aside. “I was attempting to make energon goodies, but it sat for too long.”

“What's the occasion?” Smokescreen asked.

The seeker shrugged in response. “I haven't had any in a long while. Now that we have more energon and a completed SynthEn, I figured it would be a good time to make some.”

With wide optics, 'Bee quickly explained what was going on to the children, who looked lost. Starscream ignored the chatter, grabbing a fresh cube of energon. Ratchet sidled up to the jet, his field hiding his curiosity.

“Want a servo with that?” the medic asked.

Starscream side-eyed him, and then nodded. “You can get the spices ready. Four parts magnesium and zinc to one part mercury.” Absently, he added, “And a sprinkle of aluminum and iron.”

Ratchet nodded, moving away and prepping what Starscream had listed. The seeker focused on the energon, stirring it slowly. When it began to boil, thick bubbles floating to the surface and popping, he removed the pot from the heat.

He added Ratchet's mixture, only looking up when Bulkhead and Bumblebee announced they were heading out on patrol and begged the scientists to save them some. Arcee and Jack left as well, not that Starscream really noticed.

From there, he lifted the quickly cooling substance from the pot by the spoonful, moving it to his servos and twisting the goodies into complex spirals that his claws could shape just right. They were deposited on a pan, where Ratchet doused them with liquid nitrogen to harden the goodies before they could lose their shape.

Between the two of them, they made short work of the remaining batch.

Starscream plucked one off of the tray and nibbled at the end, deciding that they were okay for everyone else to try. He offered one to Optimus before the Prime retreated to his room, and the larger mech accepted with a small smile and a quite word of thanks.

Smokescreen darted over and grabbed one before Starscream could stop him, gaining an annoyed look from the seeker. It didn't seem to faze him, though, and he took half of the goodie in one bite with an appreciative “Mmm!”

Starscream rolled his optics and held one out to Ratchet before the medic could take his own from the tray. Ratchet seemed surprised, but he took it anyways and tasted the creation.

His optics brightened in surprise before dimming in satisfaction as he savored the rest of the treat. Starscream watched him as he munched on his own, pleased that his masterpiece was being enjoyed.

“I've never seen a goodie twisted like this,” Ratchet commented, gaze flicking down to the tray.

Starscream shrugged one shoulder, feigning nonchalance. “It's a Vosian tradition, I suppose. Our higher-grade energon would cool slower than the mid-grade grounders tend to drink, so we had more time to manipulate the shapes.”

Ratchet hummed a single note to show his understanding, and Miko sighing loudly interrupted their conversation.

“Oh, just kiss already!” she complained, leaning on the railing in a dramatic motion and holding her head up with a hand in boredom.

Starscream's frame warmed considerably, and he couldn't help his cooling fans from onlining.

Interestingly enough, he could hear Ratchet's fans power up as well, and the medic's engine coughed as he awkwardly glanced away. Starscream sent a glare at the pink-headed human, who laughed at the reaction of the two scientists.

Deciding he was no longer needed in the room, Starscream turned on his heel strut and marched out. If he was going to be mocked, then he wouldn't stay.

* * *

* * *

Smokescreen watched Starscream's dramatic exit with a laugh, noting that Ratchet watched him leave as well. Miko's words brought up an interesting point, though. He'd seen the two mechs around each other rather often over the past few cycles.

Not that either one would admit there was anything to that, claiming it was because of their work on the SynthEn, but it was an amusing proposition.

“You're not going to go after him?” Smokescreen asked, unable to help himself.

“Oh, no,” Ratchet replied in a tone that was amusement tinged with defiant refusal. “If this is his tactic to get attention, then I am not falling for it!”

Miko laughed, shaking her head at something only she knew. Raf tugged on her sleeve and whispered something in her ear.

Smokescreen raised an optic ridge, saying nothing in response but not taking his optics off the grumbling medic. Something was going on here, and the rookie was going to find out.

One way or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been looking forward to writing the next chapter since I came up with the idea for this fic, so stay tuned everyone! :D


	19. Crossing the Line

Starscream online his optics and stared into the darkness shrouding his berthroom. Lingering on the edges of recharge, he wondered what had woken him. It was still an hour before even Ratchet would wake for the day.

Then the pain hit him.

It was such an unexpected wave of brutal agony that washed over him that he couldn't even find it in himself to move. He simply lied there, vocal processors locked up. His spark pulsed in its chamber, seizing almost rhythmically, and panic clawed at him.

He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. He couldn't _breathe..._

And then the pain eased off.

Heaving in vents of air, Starscream numbly tested his limbs for movement. They complied, but all of his motions were so shaky that he didn't trust his pedes to hold his weight without sending him crashing to the floor. Hesitantly, the jet started to sit up.

A fresh wave of pain, almost worst than the last struck him. He fell back onto the plush surface of his berth with a groan. It was all he could manage before his vocal processors locked up again.

Over and over the process repeated, leaving him weak and dazed between each bout. Somewhere between the rounds of agony, the exhausted seeker was able to slip back into a dreamless recharge.

* * *

* * *

The base had been rather quiet today, a fact that Ratchet wholeheartedly appreciated. It let him concentrate on getting his work done in peace.

Bumblebee, Arcee, and Bulkhead were out helping their charges with some sort of history project. The humans had been at the base that morning, but they'd departed quickly at Ratchet's _suggestion_ to get the project done.

Agent Fowler had shown up a half hour ago with some news for Optimus, along with some questions from his superiors. Smokescreen was lounging nearby, having just returned from a patrol and stayed to listen to the two talk rather boredly.

Ratchet listened with only half an audial, working on logging the team's latest journeys around the earth as he did so.

“They weren't overly happy to hear that a 'con joined up originally, but most of them have changed their tunes now,” Fowler said. “Say, where is the 'con anyways?”

“He's not a decepticon any longer, Agent Fowler,” Ratchet said absently, logging another set of coordinates. “But now that I think of it, I haven't seen him yet this cycle.”

Optimus' field pulsed curiosity. Smokescreen's did as well, but it was mixed with something else that Ratchet couldn't quite discern, and then the doorwinger was pulling his field in beyond the medic's range.

“Think he tried to make a run for it?” Fowler asked.

“He can't have,” Ratchet scoffed. “The device in his chest cavity would alert us if he left the base.” As he spoke, the medic pulled up an interior map of the old missile silo, scrutinizing it. “There, see? He's in his quarters.”

“It is strange he has not come out yet, this late in the cycle,” Optimus observed. “Seekers are not known for their willing confinement.”

“I'll go check on him,” Smokescreen piped up, optics brightening.

“No, no. I'll go,” Ratchet argued, brushing aside the amusement from Optimus' field and nearly missing the little smirk that graced the rookie's faceplates. The medic narrowed his optics suspiciously at Smokescreen, but didn't pursue the issue and departed for the section of the base put aside for the autobots' personal quarters.

Reaching Starscream's door, Ratchet cleared his throat and rap his knuckles against the steel surface. When he didn't receive a response, he frowned and knocked again.

“Starscream? Is everything all right? You've been in there all day.”

There was still no acknowledgment from within, and worry began to bloom in Ratchet's spark. Numerous scenarios played across his processor, ranging from possible to entirely outlandish.

The medic overrode the door's controls, stepping inside before they'd completely opened.

Starscream was lying on his berth, curled up into a tight ball. His plating was pulled flat against his protoform, and his optics were dim. His field perforated the room, filled to its limits with muted misery. He barely acknowledged Ratchet's interest, even when the medic knelt by his side and set a servo on his shoulderplating.

“Starscream, what's wrong?” Ratchet asked urgently.

“Ratchet,” the seeker mumbled, optics dimming further. “...hurts.”

“Where does it hurt?” Ratchet asked methodically, sweeping the seeker in a scan at the same time. Starscream didn't respond, but the medic's scan was enough to answer the question.

The seeker's spark was fluctuating in its energy outputs even worse than it had been yestercycle. It showed that Starscream's frame was all but paralyzed from the remnants of the pain, and the seeker was rather low on fuel.

“Can you move?” Ratchet asked, a note of urgency in his voice. “I have a sedative in the med bay that could help.”

It wouldn't be much, but it was better than letting the seeker lie there and wither away.

Starscream shook his helm by the barest degree, frame slowly freezing and optics dimming as a new wave of pain crashed over him.

“Please...” he muttered faintly. “Just... do it.”

The words were lost on the medic, who took a moment to realize what the seeker was asking for. When it finally clicked that the jet wanted a merge, Ratchet nearly suffered a processor crashed. He worked his jaw for a moment, trying to get his vocal processors to cooperate.

“Starscream, are you sure?” Ratchet asked, hardly believing his own audials.

The seeker groaned something out that could have been an answer, and then his chestplates slid open.

Ratchet stared down at his scarred spark, watching the arcs of electricity that rose off of its multifaceted surface. With a stuttered vent, Ratchet realized he was actually going to go through with this, and released the clasps on his own chestplates.

* * *

* * *

Starscream couldn't quite believe he was asking for a merge, but the pain washing over him- that had _been_ washing over him all day- was enough to make him desperate. And, as he dimly gazed at Ratchet through his narrowed optics, he figured out that he trusted the medic.

Prime was right. Ratchet wasn't Megatron.

Then the medic cracked open his own chestplates, and Starscream felt some amount of relief.

That relief turned to panic just as quickly as it had appeared when Ratchet maneuvered himself over the seeker, though.

The medic froze immediately, locking optics with Starscream and asking, “Is this okay?”

It took Starscream a moment to make his glossa comply, and he forced himself to calm down. “Yes.”

It was what he'd asked for, after all.

Ratchet didn't look too sure, though, and he moved slowly. Starscream kept his optics trained on the orange and white paint job, the smooth contours of Ratchet's armor, and the small point of the chevron on his helm. Anything to help him remember this wasn't Megatron.

Then he could feel the heat of another spark near his own, and Ratchet stilled again. “Is this okay?” he repeated.

The wild flares of electricity arcing off of Starscream's spark reached up, intertwining with the barest edges of the calmer energy Ratchet's spark gave off.

“Yes,” Starscream said again. _Please,_ his field begged.

Then their life forces met, and Starscream felt a second consciousness alongside his own, thoughts and memories that were alien from his own. His spark pulsed heavily once, and his optics dimmed before they fell offline completely.

The second presence turned menacing, the faint echos of a far-off siren's song hidden beneath insanity.

He panicked.

_Starscream. Starscream! Open your optics. Look at me!_

Starscream obeyed, and he found cool blue optic staring at him in concern, not the sharp red he'd been expected.

_You're okay. You're in the autobot base,_ Ratchet's consciousness told him, sent with a measure of warm comfort. When he showed signs of comprehension, the medic added, _This isn't okay. I'm going to pull away._

_Wait!_ Starscream said. _It's okay. Just... don't go._

Ratchet contemplated the idea for a moment, and the seeker could feel the confliction within the medic. The pure concern radiating from the ambulance was enough to reinforce the idea that _this wasn't Megatron,_ and Starscream clung to that fact.

_Okay,_ Ratchet decided. _Just don't take your optics off me._

Starscream nodded, staring into the blue depths above him. Blue, not red.

He much preferred the blue.

A level of amusement radiated from the medic, and Starscream suddenly felt self-conscious. The embarrassment had him shrinking back slightly, and he grew a degree colder as he got further from the medic's spark. The pain saw its chance and struck again, making Starscream flinch violently back towards the medic, slamming their chestplates together and making both parties gasp as their sparks came into deeper contact.

_Easy, easy,_ Ratchet said. _You're safe, and we're taking this slow. Are you okay?_

_Yes,_ Starscream answered. It was immediate, and it was easy, and Starscream liked the fact that he felt safe. That Ratchet made him feel safe.

Amusement from Ratchet reached him again, but Starscream didn't pull away.

Slowly, the barrier between the two mecha's minds faded, letting their conscious mingle freely. When he and Megatron had merged in the past, the warlord had taken great pleasure in forcing his mind and will over Starscream's own and dominating the merge. Ratchet was different, though, holding himself back and letting Starscream explore. Ratchet became Starscream just as much as Starscream became Ratchet.

The whole time, Starscream's gaze never wavered from Ratchet's blue optics, though most of his focus was diverted inward.

And then, slowly, the two minds began to flit back to their own bodies. The wall between them built itself back up to the point where they could no longer easily hear each others' thoughts, and then sense the other at all.

Their sparks separated, sliding back securely into their own casings, and Ratchet sat up so not as much of his weight was resting on the seeker beneath him. Both mecha were cycling air heavier than usual, frames overheated and energized.

With a jolt, Starscream realized his spike had pressurized slightly in its casing, straining to be released.

He was equal parts embarrassed and relieved to discover that fact. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been aroused, especially from an activity like spark merging. A part of him deep down that he'd refused to acknowledge had feared he'd been irrevocably broken.

Ratchet seemed to be having a similar problem, and glanced at Starscream. “Do you... want a servo with that?”

Starscream's gaze became confused, and the field that he'd never retracted filled with the same emotion.

Ratchet quickly backpedaled. “You don't have to accept! I was just-”

It was Starscream's turn to chuckle, and the staticky noise cut Ratchet off. “It's alright, Ratchet. You just caught me off guard. Yes, if you don't mind, I think I would enjoy the company.”

It would beat having to self-service, at the very least.

Ratchet nodded, but then hesitated and asked, “Is your pain gone?”

Starscream nodded, surprised to note that his spark felt better than it had in vorn. It was by no means whole, but knowing that he could merge and not have to fear his personality getting overwritten was... a more pleasant feeling than he could have hoped for.

His attention was drawn back to his aching spike, though, and with a strangled groan he let his modesty panel slide back so it could pressurize fully.

Ratchet eyed it for a moment, and vented. For a klik, Starscream feared that the medic had changed his mind, or worse, he had somehow disappointed Ratchet. Then Ratchet said, “It has been a long time since I've done this sort of thing.”

Starscream shuttered his optics, and then grinned toothily. “Me, either. But interfacing usually comes before a merge...”

Ratchet rolled his optics and noted, “The merge must have done something. You're sounding more like your old self by the klik.”

That grew another grin out of Starscream, and the medic retracted his own modesty panel without saying anything else.

His own spike pressurized and lubricants from his valve dripped down onto Starscream's pelvic plating, warming it slightly. Starscream watched with a hint of appreciation as Ratchet ignored his spike and gently pushed one digit into his valve with a quiet moan, and then added a second. When he deemed himself ready, he removed his digits, and gently wrapped the lubricant-coated servo around Starscream's spike.

Starscream groaned appreciatively, letting his helm fall back against the berth. When Ratchet pulled away, he couldn't help but whine, and that drew a chuckle from the medic as he situated himself above the seeker. Then he lowered himself down, vents hissing in appreciation as his valve stretched around Starscream's spike.

They groaned together, the noise filling the room.

Starscream's hips moved, attempting to gain some friction, but Ratchet put a servo on his hip plating and held him still. “No, no. Let me do this,” the medic said.

Starscream huffed, but nodded.

Slowly, Ratchet rocked back and forth, getting used to the feeling. Then he started to rise up off Starscream's spike before sharply plunging back down. Both groaned again, and Ratchet set a moderate pace.

After a moment, Starscream reached up and hooked his servos on Ratchet's shoulders, gently pulling the medic's top half down. Ratchet complied, giving Starscream a confused look as he did so.

“Merge with me,” Starscream said simply, meeting his optics.

“Are you sure?” Ratchet asked.

“Yes,” he replied.

Their sparks met again, and Starscream didn't let his optics fall shut. He slowly started to thrust, and Ratchet didn't stop him a second time. Each movement sent their sparks closer together, and they quickly reached overload.

When their consciousnesses had separated again, Ratchet pulled himself off of Starscream's depressurized spike and the two closed their various panels and plates, taking a moment to let their frames cool. Their air cycles eventually slowed, and Ratchet sat up once more.

He climbed off of Starscream, and the seeker swung his legs off of the berth, relaxing against the wall behind it. Ratchet remained seated next to him, reaching into his subspace with his clean servo and pulling back out two cubes of energon and a cleaning rag. The rag and one of the cubes were offered to the seeker, who accepted them silently.

Starscream made short work of Ratchet's transfluid on his abdomen and popped the cube open. It was only medical low-grade, which wouldn't last long in his tanks, but he was grateful for it nonetheless.

Ratchet's field was terse next to him, and the seeker could almost hear the gears in his helm turning.

“Penny for your process?” he asked. Drawing the medic out of his thoughts.

Ratchet vented lightly, taking a sip of his energon before answering. “I think I may have found the cause of your spark's energy fluctuations,” he replied, the answer both simple and grave.

Starscream remained expressionless, though the apprehension in his field gave away his feelings on the matter. “And?”

Ratchet hesitated, and then said, “You are bonded. At least partially.”

That threw Starscream for a loop, and he sat there silently as his spark sunk.

Ratchet seemed to notice, and he plowed on. “I only felt it during that second merge. Evidently your spark came to rely on Megatron's after so many merges, and a bond was half-formed. It is such a small one, though, it's no wonder you didn't know of it. I assume Megatron doesn't know, either.”

Starscream's mouth felt dry, and he stared at the glowing energon in his servos. “Is it permanent?” he finally managed to ask, the words sounding very small.

'Thankfully, no,” Ratchet replied evenly, meeting Starscream's optics when the answer made the seeker glance up hopefully. “Like I said, it is a fragment of a bond, and it will fade without the repeated merges. Merging with other mecha may speed up the process, but time is the best cure for something like this.”

It took the seeker a long while to find an answer, and he finally settled for a simple, “Thank you.”

Ratchet inclined his helm. Then he stood up and said, “If you need anything else, I'll be in the main room.”

Starscream silently watched him go, feeling irrationally sad when the door slid closed and left him alone in his silent berth room once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this instead of doing my homework. You're welcome! :)


End file.
